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LONDON 

SAMUEL PALMER 
20 CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, W.C. 



Gray's Elegy has endowed almost all of us with a 
love for " Grave Literature/' Under this impression, 
herein is offered a selection of the most quaint 
inscriptions from the various Churchyards of our 
ancient villages, where the sexton, or epitaph writer, 
oftentimes unintentionally, but more frequently in sly 
humour, indulged himself with a joke at the expense 
of those to whom dying was " no joke at all." 

Upper Holloway, August 1869. 



EPITAPHS. 



EPITAPHS. 



> ♦♦♦<- 



i. — In Banbury Churchyard, Oxfordshire. 

To the memory of Ric. Richards, who by a gangrene 
first lost a toe, afterwards a leg, and lastly his life, on the 
7th of April 1656. 

Ah ! cruel Death, to make three meals of one ! 
To taste, and eat, and eat, till all was gone, 
But know, thou tyrant ! when the trump shall call, 
He '11 find his feet, and stand when thou shalt fall. 



2. — On a Sailor, written by his Messmate. 

Here lies honest Jack, to the lobsters a prey, 

Who liv'd like a sailor, free, hearty, and gay ; 

His rigging well fitted, his sides close and tight, 

His bread-room well-furnisrr'd, his mainmast upright : 

When Death like a pirate, built solely for plunder, 

Thus hail'd honest Jack, in a voice loud as thunder, 

Drop your peak, my old boy ! and your topsails throw 

back ! 
For already too long you 've remain'd on that tack. 
Jack heard the dread call, and without more ado, 
His sails flattened in, and his bark she broach'd to. 



EPITAPHS. 



3. — On Jo. Blacket, Poet and Shoemaker, of Seaham, 
near Sunderland. 

Stranger ! behold interr'd together, 
The souls of learning and of leather. 
Poor Joe is gone, but left his all — 
You '11 find his relics in a stall. 
His works were neat, and often found 
Well-stitch'd, and with morocco bound. 
Tread lightly — where the bard is laid 
He cannot mend the shoe he made ; 
Yet he is happy in his hole, 
With verse immortal as his sole. 
But still to business he held fast, 
And stuck to Phcebus to the last. 
Then who shall say so good a fellow 
Was only leather and prunella ? 
- For character — he did not lack it, 

And if he did — 'twere shame to Black-it! 



4. — In Kilmurry Churchyard. 

This stone was raised by Sarah's lord, 
Not Sarah's virtues to record, 
For they 're well-known to all the town, 
But it was raised to keep her down. 



EPITAPHS. 



5. — On a Miser. 
This man was woncTrous rich, and oft did crave 
To bear his riches with him to the grave — 
But Death was stern, and stopped them at the door, 
So took him only, penniless and poor. 



6. — On Mr James Peck. 
Here lies a Peck, which some men say 
Was first of all a Peck of clay ; 
This, wrought with skill divine, while fresh, 
Became a curious Peck of flesh : 
Through various forms its Maker ran, 
Then, adding breath, made Peck a man. 
Full sixty years Peck felt life's bubbles, 
Till Death relieved a Peck of troubles. 
Thus fell poor Peck, as all things must, 
And here he lies — a Peck of dust. 



7. — Upon one JBrawne, an Irishman, but a Cornish 
Beggar. 
Here Brawne, the quondam beggar lies, 

Who counted by his tale, 
Some six score winters and above : 

Such virtue is in ale. 
Ale was his meate, his drinke, his cloth, 

Ale did his death reprieve ; 
And could he still have drunk his ale, 

He had been still alive. 



EPITAPHS. 



8, — On an Infant only Three Months old. 
Since I am so quickly done for, 
I wonder what I was begun for. 



9.—- Shorthand Inscription , copied from a Monument in 
one of the old Parish Churches, Sculcoates, near 
Hull, in Yorkshire. 

In a Vault 

Behind this stone, lies the body of Mrs Jane Delamotte, 

who departed this life, January the tenth, 1761. 

She was a poor sinner, but not wicked ; 

ungodly, but not unrighteous ; 

without holiness proceeding from good works ; 

and departed in the faith of the Catholic church, 

in full assurance of eternal happiness, 

by the agony and bloody sweat, 

by the cross and passion, by the precious death and 

burial, 

by the glorious resurrection and ascension, of our 

Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. 

10. — On Henry Miles. 

This tomb-stone is a mile-stone ; and why so ? 

Because beneath lies Miles, he 's Miles below. 

A little man he was, a dwarf in size, 

Yet now stretch'd out, at least Miles long he lies. 

This grave, though small, contains a space so wide, 

There's Miles in length, and breadth and room beside. 



EPITAPHS. 5 

ii. — On Mr Wake, in All Saints Church, Hertford. 

Here sleeps Mr Wake, 
Who gave the four small bells. 



12. — On an Iron Heel. 

Released from the burthen of human frailty, which was 
borne without murmuring, lie the remains of poor Tip, 
an offspring of vice. At his birth he discovered such a 
heat of disposition, that, but for repeated blows from the 
author of his existence, he would not have been formed 
for society. Driven to extremes, he was a hanger-on, 
and generally at the bottom of many a black thing ; yet, 
when he held fast to his duty, no one was better fitted to 
strengthen the under-sta7iding. Still was he too often 
trod on in return, and was left at length entirely forsaken 
by him to whom he had always proved a steady adherent. 
Worn out in constitution, no longer on a footing with, any 
one, good or bad, he fell a heart-broken victim to the 
pressure of his cares at an early age. 



13. — On Foote the Comedian. 

Foote from this earthly stage, alas ! is hurPd ; 
Death took him off, who took off all the world. 



EPITAPHS. 



14. — On a Pressman. 

No more shall register imperfect, vex, 

No more shall friars pale, provoke my ire, 
No more shall bites ox picks my brain perplex, 

No more the Devil 9 s aid shall I require. 
No more shall gloomy monks retard my way, 

No more shall overlays my patience try. 
No more shall batters stop me half a day, 

No more shall I the iron frisket fly. 
My body has been oven'im with care, 

My soul shall undergo a strict revise, 
And if my Founder thinks my proof "is fair, 

I quick shall join my Saviour in the skies. 



15. — -On a Tombstoiie in Heydoii Churchyard, near 
Hull, iii Yorkshire. 

Here lies the body of William Sturt, of Patrington, 
'buried May i8 ; 1685, aged 97 years. He had children 
by his first wife 28 ; by his second 17 ; own father to 45 ; 
grandfather to 86 ; great-grandfather to 97 ; great-great- 
grandfather to 23 ; in all, 251. 



16. — In a Churchyard in Ireland. 

Here lies Pat Steele. — 

That's very true : 
Who was he ? What was he ? — 

What 's that to you ? 



EPITAPHS. 

17. — Written at the instance of a Convivial Friend. 

Low sinks my friend, dear comfort of my heart, 

O'er whose embraces I have hung with joy ; 
Whose touch upon my lip would health impart, 

And whose delights could never, never cloy. 
To thy endearments I must bid adieu ; 

But, ah ! thy smiles in memory I '11 lock, 
And as I sigh my constant mind shall rue 

The last departed— Bottle of Old Hock! 



18. — In Hendo7i Churchyard. 

Beneath this stone Tom Crossfield lies, 
Who cares not now who laughs or cries ; 
He laugh' d when sober, and when mellow 
He was a harum-scarum harmless fellow. 
He gave to none design'd offence, 
So — " Honi soi qui mal y pense." 

19. — In Peterchiirch, Herefordshire. 

Sickness was my portion, 

Physic was my food, 
Groans was my devotion, 

Drugs did me no good. 
The Lord took pity on me, 

Because He thought it best — 
He took me to His bosom, 

And here I lie at rest. 



EPITAPHS. 

20. — On Frederick Prince of Wales, Father of 
King George III. 

Here lies Prince Fred, 
Lying down among the dead ; 
Had it been his father, 
We had much rather ; 
Had it been his mother, 
Better than any other ; 
Had it been his sister, 
Few would have miss'd her ; 
Had it been the whole generation, 
Ten times better for the nation ; 
But since 'tis only Fred, 
There's no more to be said ! 



21. — On a Blacksmith. 

Blown out his bellows, and his fire decay'd, 
See Death's fell hammer on poor Cyclops laid. 
Reader, proclaim ! if thou can'st tell, his worth, 
But let his vice lie hid with him in earth. 



22. — From the French, on a Man who was hanged in 
chains, written by his Cousin. 

My uncle's son lies here below, 

Who rests in peace — w 7 hen the wind don't blow. 



EPITAPHS. 



23. — On a Good Wife. 

Encomiums is but flattery, she was a good wife, and pray 
God bless her soul. 



24. — /// Denmark Churchyard, Ireland. 

Here lie the remains of John Hall, grocer. The world is 
not worth a fig, and I have good reason for saying so. 



25. — On a Stump Orator. 

Here lies a witless dog, who had the wit 

To make men think he had no lack of it. 

Like his own tongue, his life was always loose ; 

But his loose tongue his looseness did excuse. 

He nothing knew, yet men believed he taught ; 

His words were many, but their value nought. 

The fools who listen'd thought his notes were gold ; 

And, to speak truth, for that they oft were sold! 

He was as coarse a specimen of clay 

As ever clogg'd a hole, or stopp'd the way. 

His name was Mudd, his ways were in the slime. 

While life's oil'd wheels ran o'er the shores of time ; 

But when death's drought came on, as come it must, 

He dried into a little heap of dust. 



10 EPITAPHS. 



26. — On a Lawyer. 

See how God works His wonders now and then,- 
Here lies a lawyer and an honest man. 



27. — In Blakemore Church. 

26 years I lived single, 

5 a married life, 
Long time I was afflicted, 

And then I lost my life. 



28. — On a Miller. 

Underneath this ancient mill, 
Lies the body of poor Will ; 
Odd he lived, and odd he died, 
And at his funeral nobody cried ; 
Where he ? s gone, and how he fares, 
Nobody knows, and nobody cares. 



29. — On John Prosser. 

John Prosser is my name, and England is my nation, 

Bowchurch is my dwelling-place, and Christ is my sal- 
vation ; 

Now I am dead, and in my grave, and all my bones are 
rotten, 

As you pass by remember me, when I am quite forgotten. 



EPITAPHS, ii 



30.— In Michael Church. 

This is the place where all must come ; 

On earth there 's no perfection ; 
The soul shall meet the body great, 

Both at the resurrection. 



31. — On Petrarch, at Arqita, in Italy, 

This stone doth cover the cold bones of Franc Petrarch : 
Thou Virgin Mother take his soul ; thou Christ pardon 

grant ; 
Now weary of the Earth, he rests in heaven's Arke. 



32. — On a Tailor and Barber. 

In a timber surtout here are wrapt the remains 

Of a mower of beards and a user of skeins ; 

'Twas the shears of grim Death cut his stay-tape of life, 

And press'd him away from twist, razors, and wife ; 

But the prayer of all people he sew'd for or shav'd, 

Is that he's with the remnant of those that are sav'd. 



33. — On William Maginn, of ' Walton-on- Thames. 

Here, early to bed, lies kind William Maginn, 
Who with genius, wit, learning, life's trophies to win, 
Had neither great lord, nor rich cit of his kin, 
Nor discretion to set himself up as to tin : 



12 EPITAPHS. 

So his portion soon spent, like the poor heir of Lynn, 
He turn'd author, ere yet there was beard on his chin ; 
And whoever was out, or whoever was in, 
For your Tories his fine Irish brains he would spin ; 
Who received prose and rhyme with a promising grin, 
" Go a-head, you queer fish, and more pow'r to your 

fin!" 
But to save from starvation stirr'd never a pin. 
Light for long was his heart, tho' his breeches were thin, 
Else his acting, for certain, was equal to Quin : 
But at last he was beat, and sought help of the bin, 
(All the same to the doctor, from claret to gin !), 
Which led swiftly to gaol, with consumption therein. 
It was much, when the bones rattled loose in the skin, 
He got leave to die here, out of Babylon's din. 
Barring drink and the girls, I ne'er heard of a sin, 
Many worse, better few, than bright, broken Maginn ! 



34. — In Rip on Churchyard, Yorkshire. 

Reader, who, gazing on this lettered stone, 
My fate displaying, thoughtless of thine own, 
On this important truth thou may'st rely, 
To thee both death and judgment may be nigh. 
Oh ! let this solemn thought, whoe'er thou art, 
Find place within, and regulate thy heart. 



EPITAPHS. 13 

35. — On a Brewer. 

POOR John Scott lies buried here ; 
Tho' once he was both hale and stout. 
Death stretch'd him on his bitter bier. 
In another world he hops about ! 



36. — On a Covetous Person. 

Of him within, nought e'er was gratis had, 
That you read this so cheap now makes him sad. 



37. — On William Quick. 
Here lies the quick and dead. 



38. — On William Pry line. 

Here lies the corpse of William Prynne, 
A Bencher late of Lincoln's Inn, 
Who rudely thrust thro' thick and thin, 
Was never out — nor never in. 

A shameless, graceless, gospel-spiller, 
An endless, restless, margin-filler ; 
To King and Bishops no good wilier, 
To Church and State a caterpiller. 

Against his fate in vain he shrugs, 
In hopes of life, himself he hugs ; 
And whilst he for more tether tugs, 
Death crops the remnant of his lugs. 



14 EPITAPHS. 



39. — At Butierton, a Village in Staffordshire. 

Near to this stone John Barnet lies, 
There ? s no man frets, nor no man cries, 
. Where he ? s gone, or how he fares, 

There 's no man knows, nor no man cares. 



40. — On Stephen, a well-known Dwarf Fiddler in 
Suffolk. 

Stephen and Time 
Are now both even ; 
Stephen beat Time, 
Now Time beats Stephen. 



41. — On a Card Maker. 

His card is cut ; long days he shuffled through 
The game of life : he dealt as others do. 
Though he by honours tells not its amount, 
When the last trump is play'd, his tricks will count. 



42. — On a Miser's Tomb. 

Here lies old Father Gripe, who never cried "Jam 

satis ; " 
'Twould wake him did he know you read his tombstone 

gratis. 



EPITAPHS. 15 



43. — In the Old Church, near Christ Church, Bristol. 

Here lieth Tho. Turar, and Mary, his wife. He was 
twice Master of the Company of Bakers, and twice 
Churchwarden of this parish. He died March 6th, 1654. 
She died May 8th, 1643. 

Like to the baker's oven, is the grave, 

Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have 

A setting in, and where they do remain 

In hopes to rise, and to be drawn again ; 

Blessed are they, who in the Lord are dead, 

Though set like dough, they shall be drawn like bread. 



44. — On the last King of Corsica, 

Who died December n, 1756, shortly after his liberation from the King's 
Bench Prison, and was buried in St Anne's, Westminster. 

The grave, great master, to a level brings 
Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings ; 
But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead — 
Fate pour'd its lesson on his living head, 
Bestow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread. 

Horace Walpole caused a marble monument to be erected 
to his memory. 



45. — At Bideford, Devon. 

Here lies two brothers — by misfortune surrounded, 
One died of his wounds — the other was drownded. 



16 EPITAPHS. 

46. — On a Country Squire, 

Buried in the Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey, 

Beneath this stone there lies a skull, 
Which when it breath'd, was wondrous dull, 
But now 'tis dead and doom'd to rot, 
This skull 's as wise (pray is it not ?) 
As Shakespeare's, Newton's, Prior's, Gay's, 
The wits, the sages of their days. 



47. — On John Shaw, an Attorney. 

Here lies John Shaw, 
Attorney-at-law, 
And when he died, 
The Devil cried, 
" Give us your paw, 
John Shaw, 
Attorney-at-law." 
" Pshaw ! pshaw ! n 



48. — On Robert Trollop, Architect, in Gateshead 
Churchyard, Durham. 

Here lies Robert Trollop, 
Who made yon stones roll up ; 
When Death took his soul up, 
His body fill'd this hole up. 



EPITAPHS. 17 

49. — On Mr Speid, in the Houff, Dundee. 

Time flies with speed, with speed Speid's fled 
To the dark regions of the dead ; 
With speed consumption's sorrows flew, 
And stopt Speid's speed, for Speid it slew : 
Miss Speid beheld, with frantic woe, 
Poor Speid with speed turn pale as snow, 
And beat her breast and tore her hair, 
For Speid, poor Speid, was all her care, 
Let 's learn of Speid with speed to fly, 
From sin, since we like Speid must die. 



$o.—On a Bellows Maker ; in Newcastle Churchyard, 
Here lies poor Wallace, 

The prince of good fellows, 
Clerk of All Hallows, 

And maker of bellows ; 
He bellows did make, 

To the day of his death, 
But he that made bellows 

Could never make breath, 

51. — In Mathern Churchyard \ Monmouthshire, 

John Lee is dead, that good old man, 

You ne'er will see him more ; 
He used to wear an old brown coat, 

All button'd down before. 



EPITAPHS. 



52. — On Mrs Lee and her son Tom, at Frindsbury, 
Kent 

In her life she did her best, 
Now I hope her soul's at rest ; 
Also her son Tom lies at her feet — 
He lived till he made both ends meet ! 



53. — On Margery Scott, in the Churchyard of Dnnkeld. 

[She lived single 25 years, married 50 years, and was a 
widow 50 years.] 

Stop, reader, here, until my life you've read, 
The living may gain knowledge from the dead : 
Five times five years I Ve lived a virgin's life ; 
Ten times five years I was a married wife ; 
Ten times five years a widow grave and chaste ; 
Now wearied of this mortal life I rest. 
I from my cradle to my grave have seen 
Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a queen ; 
Four times five years the Commonwealth I saw, 
Ten times the subjects rise against the law, 
Twice did I see old prelacy put down, 
And twice the cloak did sink beneath the gown. 
An end of Stuart's race I saw, — nay more, 
I saw my country sold for English ore ; 
Such desolation in my time has been, 
That I 've an end of all perfection seen. 



EPITAPHS. 19 



54.— On Mrs Death. 

Here lies Death's wife : when this way next you tread, 
Be not surprised should Death himself be dead. 



55. — On a Blacksmith. 

My sledge and hammer lie reclin'd, 
My bellows too have lost their wind ; 
My fire's extinct, my forge decay'd, 
And in the dust my vice is laid ; 
My coal is spent, my iron gone, 
My nails are drove, my work is done. 



56. — On a Gravestone at Wood Ditton, in which is 
fixed an iron dish, according to the instructions of 
the deceased. 

William Symons, ob. 1753, set. 80. 

Here is my corpse, who was the man 
That loved a sop in the dripping pan ; 
But now, believe me, I am dead, 
So here the pan stands at my head. 
Still for sops to the last I cried, 
But could not eat, and so I died. 
My neighbours, they perhaps will laugh, 
When they do read my epitaph. 



20 EPITAPHS. 



57. — In St Peter's Churchyard^ Isle of Thanet. 

Against his will, 

Here lies George Hill, 

Who from a cliff, 

Fell down quite stiff; 
When it happen'd is not known, 
Therefore not mentioned on this stone. 

58. — On a Scold. 

Here lies my wife in earthly mould. 
Who, when she liv'd, did nought but scold ; 
Peace, wake her not, for now she 's still, 
She had, but now I have my will. 

59. — On a Quack. 

I WAS a quack, and there are men who say 
That in my time I physick'd lives away ; 
And that at length I by myself was slain 
By my own drugs, ta'en to relieve my pain. 
The truth is, being troubled with a cough, 
I like a fool consulted Dr Gough ; 
Who physicked me to death, at his own will, 
Because he 's licensed by the State to kill : 
Had I but wisely taken my own physic, 
I never should have died of cold and 'tisick. 
So all be warn'd, and when you catch a cold 
Go to my son, by whom my medicine's sold. 



EPITAPHS. 21 



60. — In Luton Church. 

Here lies the body of Samuel Proctor, 
Who lived and died without a doctor. 



61.— On an Epicure. 

At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er, 
I Ve eat sufficient, I can drink no more : 
My night is come ; I Ve spent a jovial day ; 
? Tis time to part ; but oh ! what is to pay ? 



62.— On Oliver Goldsmith, by Garrick. 

Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
Who wrote like an Angel, but talk'd like poor Poll. 



63. — On a Coalheaver. 

Cease to lament his change, ye just, 
He's only gone from dust to dust. 



64. — On a Locksmith. 

A ZEALOUS locksmith died of late, 
And did arrive at heaven's gate : 
He stood without, and would not knock, 
Because he meant to pick the lock. 



22 EPITAPHS. 



65. — On Charles Selwyn. 

Whoe'er thou art, whom conscious merit warms, 

And truth most beauteous with unborrow'd charms, 

Reflect — 'tis Selwyn lies interr'd below, 

And on the common loss a tear bestow. 

While youth permitted, in the doubtful field 

Oft had his valour taught the foe to yield. 

When age approach'd, the patriot's watchful care 

Succeeded (nobler conflict !) to the war. 

His voice still pleading in his country's cause, 

The Senate heard, and virtue join'd applause. 

At length, when waning life and sharp disease, 

The public toils unequal, call'd for ease, 

That rest he wanted, yielding Nature gave, 

In death undreaded, and a peaceful grave. 



66. — On a Smuggler. 

Here I lies, 
Killed by the X I S. 



67. — On Matthew Mndd. 

Here lies Matthew Mudd, 
Death did him no hurt ; 

When alive he was mud % 
Now he 's nothing but dirt. 



EPITAPHS. 23 

68. — On Two Infants, i?i Gloucestershire. 

Here lies two babbies, as dead as nits, 
Who died in agonising fits ; 
They were too good to live with we, 
So God did take to live with He. 



69.— In Bunhill Fields Burying-ground. 

Here lies 

Dame Mary Page, 

Relict of Sir Gregory Page, Bart. 

She departed this Life 

March 4th, 1728, 

In the 56th year of her Age. 

In 67 months she was tapped 66 times. Had taken 
away 240 gallons of water, without ever repining at her 
case, or ever fearing the operation. 



70. — On a Parish Clerk. 
Here lies within this tomb, so calm, 

Old Giles — pray sound his knell — 
Who thought no song was like a Psalm, 

No music like a bell. 



71. — On a Dyer. 

Here lies a man who dyed of wool great store ; 
One day he died himself, and dyed no more. 



24 EPITAPHS. 



72. — On a Postilion. 

Here I lays. 
Kilt by a chays. 



73. — On Benjamin Franklin. 

I GO, my friends, where sorrow's foot ne'er trod, 
I go to meet my Saviour and my God, 
Where heavenly instruments are nobly strung, 
And loud eternal hallelujahs rung. 
Where great archangels never cease to sing — 
" All holy, holy, is our Saviour King ! 
Who was, and is, and ever shall endure, 
Whose crown's immortal, and His right secure." 



74. — On Richard Burke. 

Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at ; 
Alas ! that such frolic should now be so quiet ! 
What spirits were his ! what wit and what whim ! 
Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb ! 
Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball ! 
Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all ! 
In short, so provoking a fellow was Dick, 
That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick ; 
But missing his mirth and agreeable vein, 
As often we wish'd to have Dick back again ! 



EPITAPHS, 25 



75. — On Mr Pepper, a Publican, at St John's, 
Stamford, Lincolnshire. 

Hot by name, but mild by nature, 
He brew'd good ale for every creature ; 
He brew'd good ale, and sold it too, 
And unto each man gave his due. 



76. — On an Author. 

A LIFE of labour, by no pause relieved, 
Wore out a brain with splendid thoughts conceived. 
Had Fortune kindly given him more of leisure, 
The world perhaps had miss'd, he gain'd a pleasure ; 
With less of friction, and much more of rust, 
Death might have waited longer for his dust. 



77. — In the Church of St Martin, Leicester. 

Here lieth the body of John Heyrick, of this parish, who 
departed this life the second of April 1589, being about 
the age of seventy-six years. He did marry Mary, the 
daughter of John Bond, of Warden, in the county of 
Warwick, Esq. He lived with the said Mary in one 
house full fifty-two years, and in all that time never 
buried man, woman, nor child, though they were some- 
times twenty in household. He had issue by the said 
Mary five sons and seven daughters. The said John was 
Mayor of the town in 1559, and again anno 1572. The 



26 EPITAPHS. 

said Mary lived to ninety-seven years, and departed the 
8th of December 1611. She did see, before her depar- 
ture, of her children, and children's children, and their 
children, to the number of 142. 



78. — On a Physician. 

Here Doctor Fisher lies interr'd, 
Who fiU'd the half of this churchyard. 



79. — On a cclcbi'aied Cook. 
Peace to his hashes. 



80. — On Emma Horatio Lisle. 

If to her child, for ever gone, 

A widow'd mother consecrates this stone ; 

No partial praise records the illustrious maid, 

Chaste Emma's worth demands no partial aid. 

How late was beauty, innocence and truth, 

Hers, age's wisdom in the bloom of youth. 

To her, while glow'd the ingenuous cheeks with health, 

Content was bliss, and Godliness was wealth. 

In sickness patient, and composed in death, 

With calm devotion she resigned her breath, 

Fearless beheld the grave and judgment near, 

Her Saviour's " perfect love" had cast out fear. 

Such was the heart this marble bids be known, 

Depart now, reader, — and correct thine own. 



EPITAPHS. 27 



81. — On a Miser. 



Reader, beware immoderate love of pelf ; 

Here lies the worst of thieves — who robb'd himself. 



% 2.— John Sullen. 
Here lies John Sullen ; and it is God's will, 
He that was Sullen should be Sullen still ; 
He still is Sullen, if the truth ye seek, 
Knock until doomsday, Sullen will not speak. 



83. — On a Favourite Cat. 

Ah ! Pierrot ! in thy vig'rous days 

By early death laid low ! 
On thee no marble urn I raise, 

No mouldering pomp bestow : 
But near this brook I lay thy head, 

Where willows shade the ground ; 
And crop the weeds that dare to spread, 

And smooth the turf around ! 
Pierrot ! be this the tomb I give, 

This melancholy lay ! 
Haply these tender strains may live, 

When costliest piles decay. 
And when (my sorrowing period spent) 

The grave shall gape for me, 
Thy master's be a monument 

Like this, dear puss, to thee ! 



28 EPITAPHS. 



84. — At High Wycombe. 

Death is a fisherman ; the world we see 
A fish-pond is, and we the fishes be ; 
He sometimes angles, like doth with us play, 
And slyly takes us, one by one away. 



85. — At Chcltenha7n* 

Here lies I and my three daughters, 
KriTd by drinking the Cheltenham waters ; 
If we had stuck to our Epsom salts, 
We 'd not been a lying in these here vaults. 



86. — In Twickenham Churchyard, to the memory of 
the Woman who nursed Pope. 

To the memory of Mary Beach, who died Nov. 5, 1725, 
aged 78. Alexander Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy, 
and whom she affectionately attended for twenty-eight 
years, in gratitude for such a faithful old servant, erected 
this stone. 



8j.— OnM. Goodrich. 

Here lieth one, whose name doth speak him even, 
On Earth accepted, and belov'd in Heaven. 



EPITAPHS. 29 



>. — On Captain - , who was drowned at Graves- 

end, in the Churchyard of St John, Hor sley down. 

Friends, cease to grieve, that at Gravesend 

My life was clos'd with speed, 
For when the Saviour shall descend, 

'Twill be graves' end indeed. 



89. — Nautical Epitaph. 

Though boist'rous winds and Neptune's waves 

Have toss'd me to and fro, 
In spite of both, by God's decree, 

I harbour here below. 

Where at an anchor I do lie, 

With many of the fleet, 
Expecting, when I do set sail 

My Admiral Christ to meet. 



90. — On a Costermonger, in Chester Churchyard. 

" Periwinks, Periwinkles ! " was ever her cry, 

She labour' d to live poor, and honest to die ; 

At the last day again, how her old eyes will twinkle, 

For no more she will cry " Periwinks, Periwinkle ! " 

Ye rich, to virtue's want rejoicing give — 

Ye poor, by her example learn to live. 



30 EPITAPHS. 

91. — On Matthew Prior, the Poet. 

Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior ; 

The son of Adam and of Eve, 

Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher. 



92. — On a Tombstone at Eceles field, near Sheffield. 

Our life is like a winter's day, 
Some only breakfast and away ; 
Others to dinner stay, and are full fed ; 
The oldest man but sups, and goes to bed. 
Large is the debt who lingers out the day ; 
Who goes the soonest has the least to pay. 



93. — On Mr Richard Jackson. 

Lament, ye Muses, that my friend 's no more ; 
The loss of Richard let us all deplore. 
And thou, O stranger, who shall read these lines, 
Believe my verse, his soul in Heaven shines. 
In all things faithful, virtuous, meek, and mild, 
He liv'd and dy'd as harmless as a child. 
When that he dy'd Euterpe dropt a tear, 
And bless'd Urania wifid away all fear. 
Shew me his equal, traveler, if you can ; 
He hVd a saint, and dy'd an honest man. 



EPITAPHS. 31 

94. — At Penrhyn, Cornwall. 

Here lies William Smith, 
And what is somewhat rarish, 
He was born, bred, and 
Hanged in this parish. 



95. — On a Scolding Woman. 

We lived one and twentie yeare, 

Like man and wife together ; 
I could no longer have her here, 

She ? s gone — I know not whither. 
If I could guess, I doe professe 

(I speak it not to flatter), 
Of all the women in the worlde, 

I never would come at her ! 
Her body is bestowed well, 

A handsome grave doth hide her ; 
And sure, her soule is not in hell — 

The Fiend could nere abide her : 
I think she mounted up on high, 

For in the last great thunder, 
Methought I heard her voice on high, 

Rending the clouds in sunder. 



96. — On Mrs Elizabeth Archer. 

Praises on tombs are trifles vainly spent ; 
This woman's good name is her monument. 



32 EPITAPHS. 

97. — On a Parish Clerk, in Weston Church. 
Here lies entomb'd within this vault, so dark, 
A tailor, cloth-drawer, soldier, and clerk. 
Death snatch'd him hence, and also from him took 
His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer-book. 
He could not work, nor fight, — what then ? 
He left the world, and faintly cried, " Amen ! " 



98. — On Thomas Woodcock. 
Here lie the remains of Thomas Wood^/z, 
The most amiable of husbands and excellent of men. 
N.B. — His real name was Woodcock, but it wouldn't 

come in rhyme. — His Widow. 

99. — On Mrs Hannah Storks, wife of Mr Thomas 
Storks, 

Who died 13th December 1777, and her infant Daughter, who died the 28th 
of the same month, aged two years. 

Rest, dearest shades, secure from grief and care, 
Afflictive pains, and ev'ry hurtful snare ; 
Till that dread morn, when God reveal'd will come, 
And trembling Nature meet her final doom : 
Then may you rise, renewed with ev'ry grace, 
With joy to meet your God, your Saviour's face ; 
Then may the hand that now inscribes this stone, 
That lov'd you living, and laments you gone, 
Triumphant meet you in the realms above, 
To sing the wonders of redeeming love. 



EPITAPHS. 33 



ioo. — On Mrs Mary Rogers. 

Hear lyeth the bones of Mary Rogers, who left this 
world a.d. 1692 ; she was a goode mother, wifee, and 
daughters 

Al goud people, as you pass 

Pray reed my hour glass ; 

After sweets and bitters it ? s down, 

And I have left your pretty town* 

Remember soon you must prepare to fly 

From all your friends, and come to high. 

* Folkstone. 



1 01. — 0?t Two Danish Soldiers. 

The following inscription is on an oval stone monument, 
against the south wall of St Mary's Church, Beverley, 
under two swords crossed : — 

Here two young Danish souldiers lie. 

The one in quarrell chanc'd to die ; 

The other's head, by their own law, 

With sword was sever' d at one blow, 
December the 23rd, 1689. 



102. — On Dr Stafford, a remarkably fat man. 

Take heed, O good traveller, and do not tread hard, 
For here lies Dr Stafford in all this churchyard. 



34 EPITAPHS. 



103. — On Mr Edward Everard. 

You was to good to live on earth with me, 
And I not good enough to die with thee : 
Farewel, dear husband ; God would have it so 
You y l{near return, but I to you must go. 



[104. — On Sarah Lloyd. 

In memory of Sarah Lloyd, 

who departed this life March 9, 1803, 

Aged 34 years. 

This humble grave though no proud structures grace, 
Yet truth and goodness sanctify the place. 
Oh, 'scap'd from death, oh, safe on that calm shore, 
Where pain, where grief, where sorrows are.no more, 
Where never wealth could buy, nor power decree, 
Regard and pity wait sincere on thee. 
Lo, soft remembrance drops a pious tear, 
And holy friendship stands a mourner here. 



105. — In Bengeo Old Churchyard, Hertfordshire. 

The world 's a city of crooked streets ; 

Death is the market-place where man man meets ; 

If life were merchandise which men could buy, 

The rich would always live, the poor alone would die. 



EPITAPHS. 35 


i o 6 . — An Epitaph found \ 


'n a Country Churchyard. 


Bene 


VI. 


AT.HT : his : S.T. 


Seab ate yo 


Oneli Eska 


VRG 


Thari Neg Rayc 


Rie. Fan 


Hang'd 


DD 


F. R. 


Ryy ! V . . . Rey 


! mab. V. Syli Fetol 


Esf. OR WH 


If. Ele 


ATA 


SS CL 


Vai L Saflo 


Ayb. ye AR 


! Doft Ears. W. 


Than 


Hok NO : Wsb. 


Del— Ays 


Vt'lna Runo 


Hego 


Fy Ears 


Therp. Elfa 


In. So ... . Metall : 


N D 


Pit .... C. 


No ws. he 'stur 


Hero . . R . . broa. 


N'D. Toe ART. 


D P. 


Hh. Ersel Fy 


Ans. He . . I 


E w E E . . . Pin 


N. H. 


Gfr. I . . EN 


Ers Hopma 


D.S. L. 


Y. B. 



Explanation. 

Beneath this stone lies Katharine Gray, 
Chang' d from a busy life to lifeless clay : 
By earth and clay she got her pelf, 
And now she 's turn'd to earth herself. 
Ye weeping friends — let me advise — 
Abate your grief, and dry your eyes ; 



36 EPITAPHS. 

For what avails a flood of tears ? 
Who knows, but, in a run of years, 
In some tall pitcher or broad pan, 
She in her shop may be again. 



107. — On Joan Kitclmi, i?i Bury St Edmunds 

Churchyard. 

Here lies Joan Kitchin ; when her glass was spent, 
She kick'd up her heels, and away she went 



108. — On Sir Nathaniel WraxalL 

Misplacing— mistaking — 
Misquoting — misdating^- 
Men, manners, things, and facts all — 
Here lies Sir Nathan. WraxalL 



109. — At Acton, Cornwall. 

Here lies entombed, one Roger Morton, 
Whose sudden death was early brought on ; 
Trying one day his corn to mow off, 
The razor slipt, and cut his toe off; 
The toe, or rather what it grew to, 
An inflammation quickly flew to ; 
The parts they took to mortifying, 
And poor dear Roger took to dying. 



EPITAPHS. 37 



no. — On a Huntsman. 

Here lies John Mills, who over hills 
Pursued the hounds with hallo ; 

The leap though high, from earth to sky, 
The huntsman we must follow. 



in. — Copied from a Stone in the Churchyard of 
East Grimstead, in Sussex. 

In memory of Russell Hall 

And Mary his wife. 

He died March 25, 18 16, 

Aged 79 years. 
She died August 22, 1809, 
Aged 58 years. 
The ritual stone thy children lay 

O'er thy respected dust, 
Only proclaims the mournful day 

When we our parents lost. 
To copy thee in life we '11 strive, 

And when we that resign 
May some good-natured friend survive 
To lay our bones by thine. 



112. — On Dr Walker, who wrote on the English 

Particles. 

Here lie Walker's particles. 



38 EPITAPHS. 

113. — At Chigwell) Essex. 

This disease, you ne'er heard tell on — 
I died of eating too much mellon ; 
Be careful, then, all you that feed — I 
Suffered because I was too greedy. 



1.14. — On a Clergyman, named Chest. 

Here lies at rest, I do protest, 
One Chest within another ; 

The chest of wood was very good — 
Who says so of the other ? 



115. — On a Tombstone in the Burying-groimd of Church 
Crettow, a village in Shropshire, on the road betweeii 
Ludlow and Shrewsbury, is this epitaph — 

On a Thursday she was born, 
On a Thursday made a bride, 
On a Thursday put to bed, 
On a Thursday broke her leg, and 
On a Thursday died ! 



116. — An Irish Epitaph. 

Here lies the body of Jonathan Ground, 
Who was lost at sea and never found. 



EPITAPHS. 39 



117. — Li Selby Churchyard, Yorkshire. 

Here lies the body of poor Frank Rowe, 

Parish clerk and grave-stone cutter ; 
And this is writ to let you know, 
What Frank for others used to do 
Is now for Frank done by another. 



ii 8. — On Dr Johnson, by Soame Jenyns, Esq. 

Here lies poor J n, Reader have a care, 

Tread lightly, lest you rouse a sleeping bear ; 
Religious — moral — generous and humane 
He was — but self-sufficient, rude and vain. 
Ill-bred and overbearing in dispute, 
A scholar and a Christian — yet a brute. 
Would you know all his wisdom and his folly, 
His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy, 
Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, 
Will tell you how he wrote, and talked, and cough'd, 
and spit. 



119. — On S. Rumbold. 

He lived one hundred and five, 
Sanguine and strong ; 

A hundred to five 
You live not so long. 



4Q EPITAPHS. 



1 20. — On a Hen-pecked Squire. 

As father Adam first was fool'd, 
A case that ? s still too common, 

Here lies a man a woman ruled. 
The devil ruled the woman. 



121. — On a Wife. 
I LAID my wife beneath this stone 
For her repose and for my own. 



122. — On Strange, a Lawyer. 
Here lies an honest lawyer, that is Strange. 



123. — On Sir Thomas Woodcock, Lord Mayor of 
London, 1405. 

Hie jacet Tom Shorthose, 

Sine tomb, sine sheets, sine riches ; 

Qui vixit sine gown, 
Sine cloak, sine shirt, sine breeches ! 



124. —From the Greek. 

At threescore winters' end I died, 
A. cheerless being, sole and sad ; 

The nuptial knot I never tied, 
And wish my father never had. 



EPITAPHS. 41 

125. — On a Man named Fish. 

Worms bait for fish ; but here 's a sudden change, 
Fish is bait for worms — is not that passing strange ? 



126. — On a Lady of good Sense, and great Merit. 

The friend of genius, and of truth, 
Here rests — beyond the reach of pain : 

Here beauty lies, and blooming youth — 
Reflect — ye giddy, and ye vain ! 

Why need the sculptured stone declare 
That love and friendship held her dear, 

Since none, who knew her, could forbear 
The silent — but expressive tear ? 



127. — On a Member of the Kildare Family. 

Who killed Kildare ? who dared Kildare to kill ? 
Death killed Kildare — who dare kill whom he will. 



128. — 111 the Churchyard of Winchester Cathedral, on 
Thomas Thetcher, 

Who died of a violent fever caused by drinking cold small-beer after a 
quick march, May 2, 1764. 

Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier, 
Who caught his death by drinking cold small-beer : 
Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall, 
And when ye 're hot drink strong, or none at all. 



42 EPITAPHS. 

129. — On Peter Aretin. 

Here Aretin interr'd doth lie, 

Whose satire lashed both high and low ! 
His God alone it spared ; and why ? 

His God, he said, he did not know. 



130. — /// Bar net Churchyard. 

In hopes of a joyful Resurrection 

at the last Day, Here lies the Body 

of George Goldvvire, who died July 6, 1753, 

and what manner of man he was, 

that Day will certainly discover. 



131. — On a Young Lady. 

Beneath this stone a lump of clay, 

Lies Arabella Young ; 
Who on the 24th of May, 

Began to hold her tongue. 



1 3 2. — Epigrammatic Epitaph. 

Beneath yon humble clod, at rest, 
Lies Andrew, who, if not the best, 

Was not the very worst man ; 
A little rakish, apt to roam ; 
But not so now, he ? s quite at home, 

For Andrew was a dustman. 



EPITAPHS, 43 



133. — On Dr Samuel Johnson* 

To the magnanimous 

Samuel Johnson, 

a Grammarian and Critic, 

Skilled in the Literature of English Writers, 

An admirable Master of Poetry, in the Beauties 

Of Sentences, and force of Expression, 

Strict in Virtue, 

One of the best of Men, and of singular Example. 

He lived 75 Years, 2 Months, and 14 Days. 

He died on the Ides of December, A.c. 1784. 

Was buried in St Peter's Abbey, Westminster, 

13 Kalds of January, A.c. 1785. 

His Friends, and learned Companions, 

By Subscription, 

Have caused this Monument to be erected. 

* Written, it is said, by Dr Parr. 



134. — On Isaac Greentree. 

Beneath these green trees, rising to the skies, 
The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies. 
The time shall come when these green trees shall fall 
And Isaac Greentree rise above them all ! 



135. — At Painswick, Gloucestershire. 

My time was come ! my days were spent ! 
I was call'd away — and away I went ! ! ! 



44 EPITAPHS. 



136. — On a Tombstone in a Churchyard in Ulster. 

Erected to the memory of 

John Phillips, 

Accidentally shot, 

As a mark of affection by his Brother. 



137. — In Hammer sfield Churchyard, Suffolk, on 
Robert Cry toft, ob. 18 10, cet. 90. 

As I walk'd by myself, I talk'd to myself, 

And thus myself said to me : 
Look to thyself, and take care of thyself, 

For nobody cares for thee. 

So I turn'd to myself, and I answered myself, 

In the self-same reverie : 
Look to myself, or look not to myself, 

The self-same thing will it be. 



138. — On a Punster. 

Beneath the gravel and these stones, 
Lies poor Jack Tiffey's skin and bones ; 

His flesh I oft have heard him say, 
He hoped in time would make good hay ; 

Quoth I, " How can that come to pass ?" 
And he replied — " All flesh is grass" ! ! 



EPITAPHS. 45 



139. — On Dicky Pearce, ob. 1728, cet. 63, in Beckley 
Church. 

Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's fool, 
Men calPd him Dicky Pearce ; 

His folly served to make men laugh, 
When wit and mirth were scarce. 

Poor Dick, alas ! is dead and gone, 

What signifies to cry ? 
Dickys enough are left behind 

To laugh at by and by. 



140. — hi Worcester Churchyard. 

Mammy and I together lived 
Just two years and a half ; 

She went first — I followed next, 
The cow before the calf. 



141. — In Ditchington Churchyard. 

Without a home for ever, senseless, dumb, 
Dust only now contains this silent tomb. 
Where 'twas I lived or died, it matters not ; 
To whom related, or of whom begot. 
I was, but am not ; ask no more of me, 
'Tis all I am, and all that you must be. 



46 EPITAPHS. 

142. — On an Infant, in Belfrefs Church, York. 
How vain a thing is man 

When God thinks meet 
Oftimes with swadling clothes, 

To join the winding-sheet : 
A webb of forty weeks, 

Spun forth in pain, 
To his dear parents' grief 

Soon ravelled out again. 
This babe intomed 

On the world did peepe, 
Disliked it, closed his eyes, 

Fell fast asleep. 
Sept. 1, 1708. 



143. — On Margaret Gwyn. 

Here lies the bones of Margaret Gwyn, 
Who was so very pure within, 

She cracked her outer shell of sin, 
And hatched herself a Seraphin ! 



144. — At St Bennetts, Paul's Wharf, London. 

Here lies one More, and no more than he, 

One More and no more — how can that be? 

Why one More and no more may well lie here alone, 

But here lies one More, and that's more than one. 



EPITAPHS. 47 

145. — Lines on seeing a Tombstone in Hampstead 
Churchyard inscribed, " To the Memory of — — , 
itinerant linen-draper? 

Cottons and cambricks, all adieu ! 

And muslins, too, farewel ! 
Plain, strip'd, or figured, old and new, 

Three-quarters, yard, or ell ! 

By yard and nail I Ve measured ye, 

As customers inclined ; 
The church-yard now has measur'd me, 

And nails my coffin bind ! 

But now, my kind and worthy friends, 

Who dealt with me below, 
I 'm gone to measure time's long ends ; 

You 11 follow me, I know ! 



146. — On My Four Wives. 

To the memory of my four wives, who all died within 
the space of ten years, but more pertickler to the last, 
Mrs Sally Home, who has left me and four dear children ; 
she was a good, sober, and clean soul, and may i soon go 
to her. a.d. 1732. 

Dear wives, if you and i shall all go to heaven, 
The Lord be blest, for then we shall be even. 

William Joy Home, carpenter. 



48 EPITAPHS. 



147. — On a Deistical Writer. 

Beneath this sod a daring Author lies, 
Who Heaven's protection in his works denies ; 
For novel systems racked his fruitful brain ; 
For Reason strove, but strove, alas ! in vain. 
Thus dreaming on, to self-conceit allied, 
He liv'd in folly, and in ignorance died. 



148. — On an inveterate A/e-Drinker. 

Here old John Randall lies, who telling of his tale, 
Lived three score years and ten, such virtue was in ale ; 
Ale was his meat, ale was his drink, ale did his heart 

revive ; 
And if he could have drunk his ale, he still had been 

alive. 



149. — In Pewsey Church. 

Here lies the body of 

Lady.O'Looney, 
Great niece of Burke, commonly 
Called the Sublime. 

She was 
Bland, passionate, and deeply religious ; 
Also she painted in water-colours, 
And sent several pictures to the Exhibition. 
She was first-cousin to Lady Jones, 
And of such is the kingdom of heaven. 



EPITAPHS. 49 



■ ' 150. — On Martha SnelL 

Poor Martha Snell ! her's gone away, 
Her. would if her could, but her couldn't stay ; 
Her'd two sore legs, and a badish cough, 
But her legs it was as carried her off. 



151. — ■ On Thomas Boxer. 

This ston his sacread to the memory of poer old Muster 
Thomas Boxer, who was loste in the good boate Rouver, 
just coming home with much fishes, got near Torbay, in 
the yeare of hour Lord 1722. 

Prey, goud fishermen, stop and drop a tear, 
For we hav lost his company here; 
And where he ? s gone we cannot tell, 
But we hope far from the wicked Bell.* 
The Lord be with him. 

* A public-house that he frequented, to the annoyance of his family 

Written hi pencil on the stone. — M. K. 



T52. — On a Young Man killed when viewing a display 
of Fireworks. 

Here lies I, 
Kill'd by a sky- 
Rocket in the eye. 



50 EPITAPHS. 



153. — At Tavistock, Devon. 

Under this stone, lies three children dear, 
Two be buried at Tawton, and the other here. 



154. — On William Wilson, Tailor — in Lambeth 
Churchyard. 

Here lies the body of W. W., 

Who never more will trouble you, trouble you. 



155. — At Lillingham, Dorset. 

I POORLY lived, I poorly died, 

And when I was buried, nobody cried. 



156. — On a Tombstone in Essex. 

Here lies the man Richard, 

And Mary his wife ; 
Their surname was Prichard, 

They lived without strife ; 
And the reason was plain — 

They abounded in riches, 
They no care had, nor pain, 

And the wife wore the breeches. 



EPITAPHS, 51 

157.- — In the Old Church, Brighton, Sussex. 

In Memory of 

Phoebe Hessel, 

Who was born at Stepney in the year 1713. 

She served for many years 

as a Private Soldier, in the 5th Regiment of Foot, 

in different parts of Europe ; 

and, in the year 1745, fought under the command 

of the Duke of Cumberland, 

at the Battle of Fontenoy, 

where she received a bayonet wound 

In her arm. 

Her long life, which commenced in the 

reign of Queen Anne, extended to George IV., 

by whose munificence she received 

comfort and support in her latter years. 

She died at Brighton, where she had long resided, 

December 12th, 1821, 

Aged 108 years. 



158. — On an inhabitant of Brighton, of the name of 
Law, who lost his life by a fall from the Cliff 
below the New Steine. 

Stop ! reader, and reflect with awe, 
For Sin and Death have conquered Law ! 
Who in full hope resign'd his breath, 
That Grace had conquer' d Sin and Death. 



52 EPITAPHS. 

159. — On John Adams, of Southwell, a carrier, who 
died of Drunkenness. 

JOHN Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell, 
A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well ; 
He carried so much, and he carried so fast, 
He could carry no more, so was carried at last ; • 
For the liquor he drunk, being too much for one, 
He could not carry off — so he's now carri-on ! 



160. — On an Infant. 

This lovely bud, so young, so fair, 
Call'd hence by early doom, 

Just came to show how sweet a flower 
In Paradise would bloom. 



161. — On John Ross, Jersey. 

Here lies John Ross, 
Kick'd by a hoss. 



162. — Rebecca Freeland, ob. 1741, at Edwalton, 

Notts. 

She drank good ale, good punch, and wine, 
And liv'd to the age of ninety-nine. 



EPITAPHS. 53 



163.— On a Scolding Wife. 

Here lies my wife, — poor Molly ! let her lie, — 
She finds repose at last — and so do I. 



164. — In Cirencester Churchyard. 

OUR bodies are like shoes, which off we cast, 
Physic their cobblers, and Death their last. 



165. — On an Infant. 

Beneath this stone lies our dear child, 

Who ; s gone away from we, 

For evermore into eternity ; 

Where we do hope that us shall go to he, 

But him can never come back to we. 



166. — On a Man who was too Poor to be Buried with 
his Relations in the Church at Kingsbridge. 

Here lie I, at the chancel door, 
Here I lie because I 'm poor ; 
The further in, the more to pay, 
Here lie I as warm as they. 



54 EPITAPHS. 

167. — On a great Eater. 

Walk gently here, and make no fuss, 
For wake him, and he '11 eat up us. 



168. — On a Barren Woman. 

Here lies the body of barren Peg, 

Who had no issue but one in her leg ; 

But while she was living she was so cunning, 

That when one stood still, the other was running. 



169. — On an Old Maid. 

Tabby, immaculate and pure, 

Who liv'd a spotless maid, 
From man ne'er thought herself secure, 

Till in her coffin laid. 

Full threescore years she stood the test 

Of all our sex's art ; 
Not one could warm her icy breast, 

Or melt her frozen heart ! 

Tho' long she kept her virgin state, 

Death ravish'd her at last ; 
She struggled^ but, O cruel fate, 

He held poor Tabby fast ! 



EPITAPHS. 55 

170. — On Two Children. 

To the Memory of Emma and Maria Littleboy, 

the twin-children of 

George and Emma Littleboy of Hornsey, 

who died July 16, 1783. 

Two little boys lie here, 

Yet strange to say, 
These little boys are girls. 



171. — On a Country Cobbler. 

[Written over the Grave of the Deceased a Month after his Interment.] 

Beneath this green hillock lies honest Dick Hall, 
Whose service was courted by fair, brown, nay, all ; 
For his life was employed, to keep, in foul weather, 
All harm from your feet, by the strength of his leather ; 
His wax was so smooth, his ends were so strong, 
His workmanship good, and so pleasing his song, 
That some neighbours would oft at his stall listen hours, 
To hear " Deny Down," " Hearts of Oak," " Social 

Powers ; " 
And, tho' it seems strange, yet for truth 'tis well known, 
He'd repair other's soles, but neglected his own ; 
Yet, wishing the future might better the past, 
He lived fifty years, and then — death took his last. 



56 EPITAPHS. 



172. — Translation of a French Epitaph. 

Interred here a son doth lie, 
As likewise doth the mother; 

A sister too doth lay close by, 
And near her lays the brother. 

The father, by the daughter's side, 

Is turning into clay ; 
The husband by his loving bride 

Does moulder too away. 

The number seems to eight to mount, 

As you may plainly see ; 
Yet sum them all in one account, 

They make no more than three. 

SOLUTION. 

The son being married to his mother, they 

became 

Husband and wife, 

Whose offspring was 

A daughter. 

The man and woman dying, caused 

A son and mother, 

An husband and wife, 

To be laid in one grave : 

The daughter dying, 

By being buried in the same grave, 

Made an addition of 

The sister and daughter, 

As specified in the epitaph. 



EPITAPHS. 57 



173. — In Cunw allow Churchy ard, Cornwall. 

[Can be read backwards or forwards.] 

Shall we all die, 

We shall die all, 
All die shall we, 

Die all we shall 



174. — On Tom UUrfey, in St James 1 Church, 
Piccadilly. 

Here lies the Lyric, who, with tale and song, 
Did life to three score years and ten prolong ; 
His tale was pleasant, and his song was sweet, 
His heart was cheerful, but his thirst was great. 
Grieve, reader, grieve, that he too soon grew old- 
His song is ended, and his tale is told. 



175. — On John Parson. 

Here lieth the bodye of 

John Parson, 

the only sonne of 

William Parson of Salvington, 

Who was buried the fouerth day of March 1633. 

Youthe was his age, 

Virginitie his state, 
Learning his love, 
Consumption his fate. 



58 EPITAPHS. 



176. — On a Favourite Dog. 

Thus Phillis fell, to all that lov'd her dear, 
She justly claim'd the tributary tear ; 
Soft was her coat as down, and smooth as silk, 
A few red spots excepted, white as milk. 

The fairest she of all the faithful kind, 
Where beauty shone with nature's sweetness join'd ; 
Just was her conduct, all her actions right, 
Sincere and faithful, courteous and polite. 

Full fourteen years she liv'd in perfect ease, 
Bless' d with a form, and ev'ry art to please ; 
Who never failed, on each revolving day, 
To show her joy, and grateful homage pay : 
The loss of so great worth we now deplore, 
Since Phillis, lovely Phillis ! is no more ! 



177. — To Edward Thomas Sheep, of Cloudesley Square. 

Here lies a sheep, 
The stone speaks true, 
For a dead sheep is mutton. 

178. — In Grantham Churchyard. 

John Palfreyman, who is buried here, 
Was aged four-and-twenty year ; 
And near this place his mother lies, 
Likewise his father — when he dies. 



EPITAPHS. 59 

179. — On a Tall Man in the Churchyard 
at Poole. 

As long as long can be, 
So long so long was he. 
How long how long did say ? 
As long as long as May. 



180. — At Edinburgh. 

John M'Pherson 

Was a wonderful person ; 

He stood 6 ft. 2 without his shoe. 

And he was slew 

At Waterloo. 



181. — On a Quarrelsome Man. 

Beneath this stone lies one whose life 
Was spent in quarrels, and in strife. 
Wake not his spirit from its rest, 
For when he slept the world was blest. 



182. — On a Child. 

The child that sleeps within this silent tomb, 
Departed at the end of two short years : 

Many will wish when the great Judge shall come, 
They 'd liv'd no longer in this vale of tears. 



60 EPITAPHS. 

183. — /;/ Thetford Churchyard. 

My grandfather lies buried here, 

My cousin Jane, and two uncles dear ; 

My father perish'd with inflammation in the thighs, 

And my sister dropt down dead in the Minories. 

But the reason I 'm here interr'd, according to my 

thinking, 
Is owing to my good living and hard drinking ; . 
If therefore, good Christians, you wish to live long, 
Don't drink too much wine, brandy, gin, or anything 
strong. 



184. — /;/ Hampton Churchyard, on 
Afrs Ann Ros soman. 

Be sacred here, — the dust that lies below ! 
Which once with fair Creation's taints did glow ; 
Where Nature all her richest treasures spread ; 
Beauty and Virtue,— now, alas ! they 're fled— 
The wreck of Beauty lies sepulchred here, 
But Virtue shines in its immortal sphere. 



185. — On an Infant 

JUST with her lips the cup of life she prest, 
Found the taste bitter, and declined the rest, 
Averse then turning from the face of day, 
She softly sigh'd her little soul away. 



EPITAPHS. 6 1 



1 8 6. — In Stapkhurst Churchyard, Kent. 

A MAN is born — alas ! and what is man ? 
A scuttle full of dust — a breath — a span — ■ 
A vale of tears — a vessel turned with breath, 
By sickness broach'd, and drawn off by death, 



187. — On Hanna, Wife of George Onions. 

She was 

But words are wanting to say what, 
Look what a wife should be, 
And she was that. 



8. — On Peter Izod, Parish-Clerk of Crayford, Kent. 

The life of this clerk was just three score and ten, 
During half of which time he had sung out Amen. 
He married when young, like other young men ; 
His wife died one day, so he chanted Amen. 
A second he took, she departed — what then ? 
He married, and buried a third with Amen. 
Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then 
His voice was deep bass, as he chanted Amen. 
On the horn he could blow as well as most men, 
But his horn was exalted in blowing Amen. 
He lost all his wind after three score and ten, 
And here with three wives he waits till agen 
The trumpet shall raise him to sing out Amen. 



62 EPITAPHS. 



189. — On Thoiiias Halliday, aged 23. 

How lov'd, how valued once, avails thee not, 

To whom related, or by whom begot ; 

A heap of dust alone remains of me, 

'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be. 



190. — On a Sexton. 

Hurrah ! my brave boys, let 's rejoice at his fall, 
For if he had lived, he had buried us all. 



191. — On Thomas Fox. 

In Memory of 

Mr Thomas Fox, 

of 352, Oxford Street, who was 

unfortunately killed by falling into the 

machinery of the Royal Sovereign 

steam-packet, 

during an excursion to the Nore, 

on the 22d July 1825, 

Aged 26 years. 



192. — On Matthias Mitchell, aged 22. 

No warning given unceremonious fate ; 
A sudden push from life's meridian joy ! 



EPITAPHS. 63 



193. — On General Wolfe. 

Inscription to the Memory of 

General Wolfe, 

Slain in the Service of his Country at Quebec, in 

North America. 

If nobly fighting in a nation's cause, 

And bravely dying to maintain its laws ; 

If great exertion, honesty of heart, 

And all the zeal true courage can impart ; 

If these can make the laureate hero shine, 

These, Wolfe, were thine, pre-eminently thine. 

Too early lost — yet glory crown' d thy days, 

And fame grows hoarse, unequal to thy praise. 

But, oh ! thy death, illustrious chief, destroys 

The sudden burst of universal joys ; 

Our patriot king in pity drops a tear, 

And mourns a conquest that was bought so dear. 

Oh ! let the muse thy fortitude proclaim, 

And on thy tomb thus register thy name ; 

" Here lies brave Wolfe, who fought on freedom's 

side. 
Bled for his King, and vanquished tho' he died." 



194. — On Gay. 

[Written by himself.] 

Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
I thought so once, and now I know it. 



64 EPITAPHS. 

195. — On Isaac Reed. 

Reader of these four lines take heed, 
And mend your life for my sake ; 

For you must die, like Isaac Reed, 
Tho' you read till your eyes ache ! 



196. — On Dr Sheridan. 

Beneath this marble stone there lies 
Poor Tom, more merry much than wise, 
Who only lived for two great ends, — 
To spend his cash, and lose his friends. 
His darling wife, of him bereft, 
Is only grieved — there 's nothing left. 



197. — Spanish Epitaph. 

The following is a singular epitaph : — " Here lies Don 
Martin John Barbuda, Grand- Master of Alcantara, who 
never knew what fear was." 

Charles V. of Germany, on reading the conceited lines, 
remarked that Don Martin had probably never snuffed 
a candle with his finders. 



198.— On Sir John Vanbrngh, Architect. 

Lie heavy on him, Earth, for he 
Laid many a heavy load on thee. 



EPITAPHS. 65 

199. — On Richard Holmes and Alice his Wife. 

Deny'd a father's hope, a mother's prayer, 
Their last sad griefs to soothe, their sighs to share ; 
Restrain'd from mourning o'er their hallow'd bier, 
And on their loved remains to shed a tear ; 
Yet shall this humble stone remain to prove 
Parental tenderness, and filial love. 



200. — At Saint Agnes, Cornwall. 

Here lies the body of Joan Carthevv, 
Born at Saint Columb, died at St Cue ; 
Children she had five, 
Three are dead, and two alive ; 
Those that are dead chusing rather 
To die with their mother than live with their 
father. 



201. — On Sir Isaac Newton. 

Under this sacred marble Newton lies, 

Whose genius compass'd earth, and sea, and skies, 

Coloured the light, and saw the chain that bound 

Reluctant planets in their measured round : 

To ev'ry law of nature strictly just. 

He dy'd, and helps attraction with his dust. 



66 EPITAPHS. 



202. — On a Slovenly Woman. 

Here lies my poor wife, a sad slattern and shrew ; 
If I said I regretted her, I should lie too. 



203. — On a Country Innkeeper. ' 

Hark ! hark ye, old friend ! what, wilt pass then 
without 

Taking notice of honest plump Jack ? 
You see how 'tis with me, my light is burnt out, 

And they Ve laid me here flat on my back. 
That light in my nose, once so bright to behold, 

That light is extinguished at last ; 
And I 'm now put to bed in the dark and the cold, 

With wicker and so forth made fast. 
But now, wilt oblige me ? then call for a quart 

Of the best, from the house o'er the way ; 
Drink a part on't thyself, on my grave pour a part, 

And walk on, — Friend, I wish thee good day. 



204. — In St John 's Church, Chester, on a Swift- 
footed Man. 

Here lies the swift racer, so famed for his running. 
In spite of his boasting, his swiftness, and cunning, 
In leaping o'er ditches, and skipping o'er fields, 
Death soon overtook him, and tript up his heels. 



EPITAPHS. 67 



205. — On Elizabeth, Wife of Mr George Allaker of 
Great Totharn. 

[An Acrostic-] 

E ntomb'd beneath this verdant mound, 
L ies her once loved by all around : 
I n duty's course she walked until 
Z eal scarce left duties to fulfil ! 
A nd though her husband, left behind, 
B emoans a partner true and kind, — 
E ach of her offspring weeping, too, 
T o find how Death can them undo, — 
H er well-spent life, of that the thought, 

A Hay all sorrow, sure, it ought : 

L ose what we may, much grief betrays 

L ess trust in Him we still should praise ! — 

A 11 vice, oh ! Reader, e'er eschew ; 

K eep still the " promised land " in view. 

E nliv'ning thought ! 'twill you ensure 

R est e'er with Jesus and the pure !. 



206. — In Alresford Churchyard, Hants, on 
an Exciseman. 

No supervisor's check he fears — 
Now no commissioner obeys ; 

He 's free from cares, entreaties, tears, 
And all the heavenly orb surveys. 



68 EPITAPHS. 



207. — On a Baker. 

Here lies Dick, a baker by trade, 
Who was always in business praised ; 

And here snug he lies, in his oven, 'tis said, 
In hopes that his bread may be raised. 



208. — On a Woodman, at Ockham, Surrey, 1736. 

The Lord saw good, I was lopping wood, 

And down fell from the tree ; 
I met with a check, and broke my neck, 

And so death lopp'd off me. 



209. — Oft John Trefirey, Esq. 

Here in this Chancell do I lye, 
Known by the name of John Treffrey, 
Being made and born for to die : 
So must thou, friend, as well as I. 
Therefore good works be sure to try, 
But chiefly Love and Charity ; 
And still on them with Faith rely, 
So be happy eternally. 

Soli Deo gloria. 

This was put up during Jhis life, being a [whimsical man. 
He had his grave dug, and lay down and swore in it, to show 
the sexton a novelty — i. e., a man swearing in his grave. 



EPITAPHS. 69 

210. — On a Pin-maker. 

Here lies Will Sharpless. O most cruel death ! 
Why didst thou rob Will Sharpless of his breath ? 
He, in his lifetime, scraping one poor pin, 
Made better dust than thou canst make of him. 



211. — In Wolverhampton Church. Ob. 1690. 

Here lies the bones 

Of Joseph Jones, 
Who eat whilst he was able ; 

But once o'erfed, 

He dropp'd down dead, 
And fell beneath the table. 

When from the tomb, 

To meet his doom, 
He rises amidst sinners ; 

Since he must dwell 

In heav'n or hell, 
Take him — which gives best dinners ! 

212. — On Tommy Day. 

Here lies little Tommy Day, 
Removed from over the way. 



213 . — On Captain Stone. 
As the earth the earth doth cover, 
So under this stone lies another. 



7o EPITAPHS. 



214. — On an Undertaker. 

Here lies Bob Master. Faith ! 'twas very hard, 
To take away our honest Robin's breath ; 

Yet surely Robin was full well prepared, 
For he was always looking out for death. 



215. — On W. M. Caidfield. 

Sacred to the Memory of 

Master William Moore Caulfield, 

who died March 23, 1783, not quite sixteen. 

And art thou gone ? ah, much lamented youth, 
Endow'd with varied powers and manly truth ! 
Oh ! what a soul, and what a form divine ; 
Thy pen as tuneful as the sacred Nine ; 
Thy pencil caught each attribute of life, 
And Art with Nature toil'd in friendly strife ! 
Thy filial piety with lucid beam 
Glanced like the orb of day's resplendent gleam ; 
Cheering such parents as for worth might vie 
With cherub' d Angels in yon azure sky ! 
— No longer mourn the much loved Willy's fate, 
With joy behold his bless'd immortal state, 
View him enthroned with Seraphims above, 
Praising with lays divine his Maker's love. 
Loud Hallelujahs from the heavenly Choirs 
Resound dear Caulfield's name with warbling lyres. 



EPITAPHS. 71 

2i 6. — On Nell Bat chelour, the Oxford Pie-woman. 

Here into the dust 

The mouldering crust 
Of Eleanor Batchelour 's shoven> 

Well versed in the arts 

Of pies, custards, and tarts, 
And the lucrative skill of the oven. 

When she 'd lived long enough, 

She made her last puff — 
A puff by her husband much praised ; 

Now here she does lie, 

And makes a dirt pie, 
In hopes that her crust may be raised! 



217. — On a Coachman, the Driver of the Coach that 
ran between Aylesbury and London. 

Parker, farewell ! thy journey now is ended. 
Death has the whip-hand, and with dust's blended ; 
Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust, 
Thy last account may prove exact and just. 
When He who drives the chariot of the day, 
Where life is light, whose Word 's the living way, 
Where travellers, like yourself, of every age, 
And every clime, have taken their last stage — 
The God of Mercy, and the God of Love, 
Show you the road to Paradise above ! 



72 EPITAPHS. 



218. — On Sir Isaac Newton. 

Isaacus Newtonius : 

Quern immortalem 

Testantur Tempus, Natura, Ccelum : 

Mortalem 

Hoc Marmor fatetur. 

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night : 

God said, Let Newton be ! and all was light. 

The extravagance of the compliment in these two lines gave 

birth to the following sarcastic couplets : — 

If Newton's existence enlightened the whole, 

What part of expansion inhabits the fool ? 

If life had been total, as Pope has averr'd, 

J. T. had been right, for he could not have err'd : 

But Pope has his faults, so excuse a young spark, 

Bright Newton 's deceased, and we 're all in the dark. 



219. — On Sir William Curtis. 

Here lies William Curtis, late our Lord Mayor, 
Who has left this here world and gone to that there. 

220. — On two Children of a Chimney-sweep, in Old 
Camberwell Churchyard. 

Their ashes and this little dust 
Their father's care shall keep, 

Till the last angel rise and break 
Their long and dreary sleep. 



EPITAPHS. 73 



221. — On Edward Morgan, who died in 1828, at 
Saint Bride's Minor, Glamorganshire. 
O Earth ! O Earth ! observe this well, 
That earth to earth must come to dwell ; 
Then earth in earth shall close remain, 
Till earth from earth shall rise again. 



222. — In Christ Church Churchyard, Hants, supposed 
to allude to ten persons drow?ied, whose bodies were 
driven on shore, and buried in afield; bid the owner 
considering it an invasion on his p7vperty, dug them 
up, when they were removed to the Churchyard. 

We were not slain ; but raised : 

Raised not to life, 
But to be buried twice, 

By men of strife. 
What rest could living have, 

When dead had none ? 
Agree amongst you, 

Here we ten are one. 

Henry Rogers died April 17, 1764. 

223. — On a Coroner who Hanged Jmns elf . 

He lived and died 
By suicide. 



74 EPITAPHS. 



224. — On Dr Mou'nsey, Physician to Chelsea Hospital. 

Here lie my old bones ; my vexation now ends : 
I have lived much too long for myself and my 

friends. 
As to churches and churchyards, which man may 

call holy, 
'Tis a rank piece of witchcraft, and founded in 

folly. 
What the next world may be, never troubled my 

pate ; 
And be what it may, I beseech you, O Fate ! 
When the bodies of millions rise up in a riot, 
To let the old carcase of Mounsey be quiet. 



225. — On Sir John Guise. 

Here lies 
Sir John Guise ; 
No one laughs, 
No one cries ; 
Where he is gone, 
And how he fares, 
No one knows, 
And no one cares. 



226.— 7>z Kingston Churchyard, Hants. 

Live well — Die never, 
Die well — Live for ever. 



EPITAPHS. 75 

227. — Oft the Marquis of Angles ed s Leg. 
Here lies, — and let no saucy knave 

Presume to sneer or laugh, 
To learn, that moulcTring in this cave 

Is laid a British calf. 
For he who writes these lines is sure 

That those who read the whole, 
Would find that laugh were premature, 

For here, too, lies a sole. 
And here five little ones repose, 

Twin born with other five, 
Unheeded by their brother toes, 

Who now are all alive. 
A leg and foot, to speak more plain, 

Rest here of one commanding ; 
And though his wits he may retain, 

Lost half his tinderstanding. 
Who, when the guns, with thunder fraught, 

Pour'd bullets thick as hail, 
Could only in this way be brought 

To give the foe leg-bail. 
And now in England, just as gay 

As in the battle brave, 
Goes to the rout, review, or play, 

With one foot in the grave. 
Fortune, indeed, has shown her spite, 

For he will still be found, 
Should England's foes engage in fight, 

Resolved to stand his ground : 



76 EPITAPHS. 



And but indulged in harmless whim, 
Since he could walk with one, 

She saw two legs were lost on him, 
Who never deign'd to run. 



228. — In St Giles" Churchyard, Northampton. 

Here lies a most dutiful daughter, honest and just, 
Awaiting the resurrection in hopes- to be one of the 
first. 



229. — In Darley Churchyard, Derbyshire, to the 
Memory of Four Sisters, who died shortly after 
each other, the eldest being Twenty, the youngest 
Nineteen. 

Ye thoughtless youth, who now so gaily tread 
O'er the dark mansions of the solemn dead, 
Pause here awhile, beneath this awful tomb ; 
Here lieth four, cut off in beauty's bloom, 
Who once, like you, possess'd each winning grace, 
Each sweet attraction both of mind and face ; 
Scarcely attain' d to life's fair smiling day, 
Ere the dread fiat summon'd them away, 
Like some fair flow'r, who native charms adorn, 
And give fresh verdure to the verdant morn, 
Blooms for awhile, till cold inclement skies 
Nip the fair plant, it sickens, droops, and dies. 



EPITAPHS. 77 

230. — In Rochester Churchyard. 

Though young she was, 

Her youth could not withstand, 
Nor her protect from Death's 

Imperial hand, 
Life is a cobweb, be we e'er so gay, 

And death a broom, 
That sweeps us all away. 



231. — On a Landlady. 

Assign'd by Providence to rule a tap, 

My days pass'd glibly, till an awkward rap, 

Some way, like bankruptcy, impell'd me down, 

But up I got again and shook my gown 

In gamesome gambols, quite as brisk as ever, 

Blithe as the lark, and gay as sunny weather ; 

Composed with creditors, at five in pound, 

And frolick'd on till laid beneath this ground. 

The debt of Nature must, you know, be paid, 

No trust from her — God grant extent in aid ! 



232. — On a Talkative Old Maid. (1750.) 

Beneath this silent stone is laid 
A noisy antiquated maid, 
Who from her cradle talk'd till death, 
And ne'er before was out of breath. 



78 EPITAPHS. 

233. — On Twin Sisters, who died at the same time, 
and were buried in one Grave. 

Fair marble ! tell to future days 

That here two virgin sisters lie, 
Whose lives employ'd each tongue in praise, 

Whose deaths gave tears to ev'ry eye. 
In stature, beauty, years, and form, 

Together as they grew they shone ; 
So much alike, so much the same, 

That death mistook them both for one ! 



234. — On Thomas Kemp, who was Hanged for 
Sheep-stealing. 

Here lies the body of Thomas Kemp, 
Who lived by wool, but died by hemp ; 
There 's nothing would suffice this glutton, 
But, with the fleece, to steal the mutton ; 
Had he but work'd, and lived uprighter, 
He'd ne'er been hung for a sheep biter. 



235. — In Hampshire, 

Here lies poor Teddy ; 

Death took his hand, and said he, 

Oh ! oh ! John. 



EPITAPHS. 79 

236. — On Robert JDodd, Glazier \ who died from the 
mortification of a wound occasioned by accidentally 
falling amongst broken glass. 

Stranger, or friend, whose feet shall haply tread, 
Above the chambers of the mouldering dead, 
If youth and modest innocence be thine, 
Welcome, fair pilgrim, to the instructive shrine ; 
Think, by no warning was I ta'en away, 
Prepare ! prepare ! this might be your last day ! 



237. — On Judge Boat. 

Here lies Judge Boat within a coffin, 
Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing ; 
A boat a judge ! Yes, where 's the blunder, 
A wooden judge is no such wonder ! 
And in his robes, you must agree, 
No boat was better deckt than he. 
; Tis needless to describe him fuller, 
In short, he was an able sculler. 



238. — On a great Eater. 

Whoe'er you are, tread softly, I entreat you, 
For if he chance to wake, be sure he '11 eat you. 



8o EPITAPHS. 



239. — Curious Epitaph . 

Two grandmothers, with their two grand-daughters ; 

Two husbands, with their two wives ; 

Two fathers, with their two daughters; 

Two mothers, with their two sons ; 

Two maidens, with their two mothers ; 

Two sisters, with their two brothers ; 

Yet but six corpse in all lye buried here, 

All born in wedlock, and from incest clear. 

Explanation. 

Two of these six must be men. It will make the 
solution easier to give them names : Elizabeth, John, 
and Sally ; Anne, Thomas, and Suky. Elizabeth and 
Anne of different families, only allied by their second 
marriage. Elizabeth by a first husband had John ; and 
afterwards married Thomas, and by him had Suky. Anne 
by a first husband had Thomas ; and afterwards married 
John, and by him had Sally. 

The two grandmothers were, Elizabeth and Anne ; 
their two grandaughters, Sally and Suky. 

The two husbands, John and Thomas ; their two 
wives, Elizabeth and Anne. 

The two fathers, John and Thomas ; their two 
daughters, Sally and Suky. 

The two mothers, Elizabeth and Anne ; their two 
sons, John and Thomas. 

The two maidens, Sally and Suky ; their two mothers, 
Elizabeth and Anne. 



EPITAPHS. 8 1 

The two sisters, Sally and Suky ; their two brothers, 
John and Thomas : for Suky is half-sister to John, and 
Sally half-sister to Thomas. 

First Husband = Elizabeth = Thomas, 

Second Husband 



John = Anne Suky 

Sally 
First Husband = Anne = John, 



Second Husband 



Thomas = Elizabeth Sally 

i 

Suky 



240. — On Edward Edwards. 

To the Memory of 

Edward Edwards, Esq., 

Royal Associate. 

Upright as Truth, in sentiment and mind ; 
In fortune only, not in soul confined ; 
Like Pope, his form was not in beauty drest, 
His perfect symmetry was in his breast ; 



82 EPITAPHS. 



A friend sincere to those who shared his love, 
For they were such his goodness could approve 
Music his pleasure, and the Arts his pride, 
In spirit independent, lived and died ! 



241. — On Dr Fuller. 
Here lies Fuller's earth. 



242. — On Mr G. Granville. 

He who first gave a stamp, 
And eke gave a damp, 

To ev'ry American limb, 
Is now paid in coin, 
He is shot through the loin, 

And death ? s put a stamp upon him. 

Nick Nankeedoodle. 



243. — On William Willing. 

Death will'd that Willing here should lie, 
Although unwilling he to die. 



EPITAPHS. 83 

244. — On a Candle: 

A wicked one lies buried here, 

Who died in a decline ; 
He never rose in wealth, I fear, 

Though he was born to shine. 

He once was fat, but now, indeed, 

He's thin as any griever ; 
He died, the doctors all agreed, 

Of a most burning fever. 

One thing of him is said with truth, 

With which I 'm much amused, 
It is, that when he stood, forsooth, 

A stick he always used. 

Now winding-sheets he sometimes made, 

But this was not enough, 
For finding it a poorish trade, 

He also dealt in snuff. 

If e'er you said, " Go out, I pray," 

He much ill-nature show'd ; 
On such occasions he would say, 

" Vy, if I do, I 'm blow'd." 

In this his friends do all agree, 

Although you '11 think I 'm joking, 
When going out, 'tis said that he 

Was very fond of smoking. 



84 EPITAPHS. 



Since all religion he despised, 
Let these few words suffice, 

Before he ever was baptized, 
They dipp'd him once or twice. 



245. — In the Churchyard of Seven Oaks, Kent. 

Grim death took me without any warning, 

I was well at night, and dead at nine in the morning. 



246. — In West Grin stead Churchyard, Sussex. 

Vast strong was I, but yet did dye, 
And in my grave asleep I lye ; 
My grave is stean'd round about, 
Yet I hope the Lord will find me out. 



247. — On a liar. 

Good passenger, here lies one here 
That living did lie everywhere. 



248. — On Joan Trueman, who had an issue i?i 
her leg. 

Here lies crafty Joan, deny it who can, 
Who lived a false maid, and died a Trueman ; 
And this trick she had, to make up her cunning, 
Whilst one leg stood still the other was running;. 



EPITAPHS. 



249. — On a Porter. 

At length by works of wondrous fate, 

Here lies the porter of Winchester gate. 

If gone to heaven, as much I fear, 

He can be but a porter there ; 

He fear'd not hell, so much for's sin, 

As for the great rapping and oft coming in. 



EPIGRAMS. 



EPIGRAMS. 



>>■♦. » ♦ < 



i. — iw/# # Z#^/y &? # Squinting Coxcomb who much 
annoyed her. 

If Argus be the poet's prize, 
Who look'd with just one hundred eyes, 
How much more praise to you is due, 
Who look a hundred ways with two. 



2. — Epigram upon an Epigram. 

One day in Chelsea meadows walking, 
Of poetry and such things talking, 

Says Tom, a merry wag, 
" An epigram, if smart and good, 
In all its circumstances, should 

Be like a jelly-bag." 

" Your simile, I own, is new, 

But how '11 you make it out ? " says Hugh. 

Says Tom, " I '11 tell thee, friend ;— 
Make it at bottom round, and fit 
To hold a budget-full of wit, 
And point it at the end." 



9 o EPIGRAMS. 



3. — Epigram. 

Cried Dick to Will, " I doubt, my friend, 
Poor Robin ? s very near his end ; 
Three doctors now attend his bed." 
" Three doctors ! " Will with wonder said, 
"He then is number'd with the dead." 



4. — On Milton, a Livery Stable Keeper. 

Two Miltons in separate ages were born, 
The cleverer Milton ; tis clear we have got, 

Though the other had talents the world to adorn, 
This lives by his Mews (muse), the other could not. 



5. — Literal Epigram to the Author of a poor Sonnet 
on the river Dee. 

Had I, sir, been U, 

And quite in the Q, 
As 'twould have been easy to B, 

I 'd soon let you C, 

Whilst sipping my T, 
By far better lines on the D. 



6. — On Swearing. 

Weak is the excuse that is on custom built, 
The use of sinning lessens not the guilt. 



EPIGRAMS. 91 

^.—Impromptu, on seeing an Acquaintance with a 
Shabby Coat. 

I MET a friend the other day, 

Whose coat was rather C D ; 
When told, no wonder, you will say, 

His pockets were quite M T. 



8. — On Charity. 

What numbers, once in fortune's lap high fed, 
Solicit the cold hand of charity ! — 
To shock us more, solicit it in vain. 



9. — Epigram. 

" How is it, my friend, that 
Wherever I stray, 
Mine ears are regaled with 
A jack-ass's bray ? " 

" Why, the reason's most plain, 
Birds of a feather 
Have always been known, sir, 
To flock together." 



92 EPIGRAMS. 



10. — A True Irishman : an Old Joke Versified. 

Pat at a mirror stood, with eyes 

Close shut ; when one, in great surprise, 

Exclaim'd, " What means the ape ? " 
"What mane I, honey? Widout book 
That 's answer' d — to see how I look 

When I am fast aslape." 



ii. — On Johnson. 

What bard can after Johnson shine ? 

Who shall in judgment sit ? 
A uthor of everything divine, 

And Arbiter of Wit ! 



12. — An Epigram of Martial. Z. 3, E. 31. 

I OWN, Sir Lustring, you've a million clear, 
You boast in lands ten thousand pounds a year ; 
Your various mortgages no chest can hold, 
Subscriptions, loans, and South-Sea stock untold ; 
You eat on silver, and you drink in gold. 
Yet sneer not righteous patriots, though on foot, 
Nor grin at virtue in an old surtout. 
Sejanus claim'd than you a larger store, 
Rufinus and Eutropius, sir, had more, 
And so had Osterman — but all is o'er. 



EPIGRAMS. 93 



13. — Mayn't a Man Marry his Grandmother •? 

This relative of mine 
Was she seventy and nine, 

When she died ? 
By the canvas may be seen 
How she looked at seventeen, — 

As a Bride. 

Beneath a summer tree 
As she sits, her reverie 

Has a charm ; 
Her ringlets are in taste, — 
What an arm — and what a waist 

For an arm ! 

In bridal coronet, 

Lace, ribbons, and coquette 

Falbala ; 
Were Romney's limning true, 
What a lucky dog were you 

Grandpapa ! 

Her lips as sweet as love, 

They are parting !■ Do they move ? 

Are they dumb ? — 
Her eyes are blue, and beam 
Beseechingly, and seem 

To say, " Come." 



94 EPIGRAMS. 



What funny fancy slips 

From atween those cherry lips ? 

Whisper me, 
Sweet Deity, in paint, 
What canon says I mayn't 
Marry thee ? 



14. — On a Cuckold. 

A SOBER cit of Hymen's school, 
And yet no foe to pleasantry ; 

Once wish'd that every honidfool 
Might plunged be headlong in the sea. 

His wife, a sleek round spicy dame, 
Replied, " My dear, I like your whim ; 

But ere you this advice proclaim, 
I '11 have you, silly, learn to swim." 



15. — On Debt. 

To be indebted is a shame, men say ; 
Then 'tis confessing of a shame to pay. 



16. — On a Talkative Peer. 

They say he has no heart, but I deny it ; 
He has a heart — and gets his speeches by it. 



EPIGRAMS. 95 



ij.—On a Picture in Hampton Court Palace. 

[Said to have been written by Spenser, but generally supposed to be by 
Queen Elizabeth.] 

The restless swallow fits my restless minde, 

In still revivinge, still renewinge wrongs ; 
Her just complaint of cruelty unkinde, 

Are all the musique that my life prolonges, 
With pensive thought my weeping stagg I crowne 

Whose melancholy tears my cares expresse, 
Hes teares in sylence, and my sighes unknowne, 

Are all the physicke that my harmes redresse. 
My only hope was in this goodly tree, 

Which I did plant in love, bring up in care. 
But all in vaine, for now too late I see 

The shales be mine, the kernel others are. 
My musique may be plaintes, my physique teares, 

If this be all the fruite my love-tree beares. 



1 8. — A Headless Compliment. 

" To this night's Masquerade," quoth Dick, 

" By pleasure I am beckon'd. 
And think 'twill be a pleasant trick 

To go as Charles the Second." 
Tom felt for repartee athirst, 

And thus to Richard said— 
" You 'd better go as Charles the First, 

For that requires no head." 



96 EPIGRAMS, 



19. — To an Infant'. Translated from the Persian, by 
Sir William Jones. 

On Parents' knees a naked new-born child, 
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled ; 
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep, 
Calm thou mayst smile while all around thee weep. 



20. — Epigram. 

Charles for a woman lost his head, 
James for a wafer left his bread 

To those who chose to take it ; 
Happy for every mother's son, 
That when the scramble was begun, 

So few could e'er mistake it. 



21. — On John Wilkes. 

Much has been writ, O Wilkes ! in vain 

Thy doubtful fame to ascertain ; 

At length two circumstances show 

Thy real character below. 

Thy friends, thy patriot friends, 'tis said, 

In pure regard, all wish thee dead. 

Thy foes a diff'rent instance give, 

For they all wish that thou may'st live ! 



EPIGRAMS. 97 



22. — Taxes. — ( To any Chancellor of the Exchequer}) 

Impose ; but use your power of taxing well ; 
When subjects cannot pay, they soon rebel. 



23. — On Stella? s Wearing (what the Milliners call) 
a Jacob's Ladder on her Apron String. 

Old Jacob's Ladder (I could prove) 
Had all its beauties from above. 
Young Stella's is the greatest wonder, 
With beauties both above and under. 



24. — Another Version. 

Old Jacob's Ladder (I could prove) 
Had no great charms but from above. 
Young Stella's Ladder is the wonder, 
With rapt'rous charms above and under. 



25. — On Marriage. 

JACK praised his friend, who tried his fate, 
In joining fast himself with Kate 

In wedlock so divine. 
" Marriage is the end of life," he cried. 
" Too true, alas ! " says Tom, and sigh'd, 
" 'Twill be the end of mine." 



98 EPIGRAMS. 

26.— On Mr Pin go's Medal 

Mr Pingo, by direction of Mr Garrick, engraved a 
medal, on one side of which was the manager's head ; 
on the reverse, three figures, that resembled plague, 
pestilence, and famine, more than what they were in- 
tended to represent, namely, the three Graces, with this 
modest inscription — 

" He has united all your powers." 

This being, by a gentleman to whom Mr Garrick had 
presented it, shown to Mr Henderson, he repeated the 
following lines : — 

Three squalid hags when Pingo form'd, 

And christened them the Graces ; 
Garrick, with Shakespear's magic warm'd, 

Recognised soon their faces. 

He knew them for the sisters weird, 

Whose art bedimm'd the noon-tide hour, 

And from his lips this line was heard, 
" / have tmited all your power" 

So Garrick, critics all agree, 

The Graces help'd thee to no riches, 

And Pingo thus to flatter thee, 
Has made his Graces witches. 



EPIGRAMS. 99 



27. — On a Prigger. 

Upon one who, instead of patronising the efforts of poor, 
but clever, authors, set a price upon their labours, and 
published them under his own name. 

Dost marvel Dapes should obtain 
For wit, so wond'rous great a name ? 
Dapes has wealth : and love of gain 
Tempts many a man to barter fame, 
And sell the birthright of his head, 
For napes' fish — flesh— -fowl— -and bread! 



28. — On Smithfield. 

Walking thro' SmitMeld on a market day, 

" By Jove," cries Tom, " we Ve come a beastly way ! w 



29. — On Fiords sending a Present of a Michaelmas 
Goose to Mr . 

The Phrygian King, as we are told, 

Tho' perhaps you 'd think it much, 
Could convert to genuine gold 

The basest metal with a touch. 
So all his feeling must lose, 

And must become much less than man, 
If on tasting Flora's goose, 

He turns not out a Leda's swan. 



ioo EPIGRAMS. 



30. — On Fanny. 

Some faults belong to ev'ry charming fair, 
But numberless the lovely Fanny's are : 
So numberless, they can be told by none ; 
For ¥ army faultless is — not having one. 



31. — On a Mask. 

Once at a masquerade a painted fair, 
Was wand'ring o'er the rooms in piteous case, 

u I Ve lost my mask," she cry'd, with mournful air. 
" No," said a friend, "you have it on your face? 



32. — On seeing Mr Colman carried into his Post-chaise 
by two Set vanls, at Bath, after reading in the Papers 
that he had entirely overcome the Paralytic Attack on 
his left Side at Margate. 

POOR Coley quite well again ? Would it were true ? 

But fact 9 s 3, most obstinate critic, 
And his left side, still doom'd Dr Margate to rue, 

Bears the print of a stroke paralytic. 
But Bath, and sage Harrington, soon shall prevail, 

And to London he '11 go sound and tight ; 
Where his patient restored honest Hervey shall hail, 

With his left, like his other side, right. 



EPIGRAMS. 1 01 

$$. — On the Organist of St Peter and Paul in Bath, on 
hearing his Voluntaries, said to be written by a cele- 
brated Musical Lady, who lately visited Bath. 

Why, gentle Joey, why for ever make 

Two saints such martyrs for religion's sake ? 

Shall pious aldermen still snore in C, 

And Death no close contrive to change thy key f 

Let some bless' d string from David's holy harp, 

Well tun'd to execute — in flat or sharp, 

With gentle strain — transpose thy soul to heav'n, 

And peace to Paul and Peter here be giv'n. 



34. — Epigram. 

In the last wretched moments of the famous Duke of 
Buckingham's life, at the Black Horse Alehouse, in Em- 
pingham, he called to the landlord with great vehemence 
for a pot of ale ; when the brutal fellow bawled out from 
a back room, " Your Grace is in a plaguy hurry ; I '11 come 
as soon as I have fed my pigs." This circumstance sug- 
gested the following epigram : — 

" Some ale ! some ale ! " th' impetuous Villiers cries ; 
To whom the surly landlord thus replies : 
" Plague on your Grace ! you treat me like a dog : 
I '11 serve your Lordship when I 've serv'd my hog." 



io2 EPIGRAMS. 



35. — To a Thief. 

QUOTH a starved poet to a thievish spark, 
Who search'd his house for money in the dark ; 
Forbear your pains, my friend, and go away ; 
You 7 U not find now, what I can't in the day. 



36. — 0?i a Blusterer. 

How kind has Nature unto Bluster been, 
Who gave him dreadful looks and dauntless mien ; 
Gave tongue to swagger, eyes to strike dismay ; 
And, kinder still, gave legs — to run away ! 



37. — On a late Parliamentary Defeat. 

O Cornwall, great, I ween, is thy renown, 

Far mightier thou than noble Richmond 's Grace is ; 

Thou with one little word hast tumbled down 
His bastions, batteries, counterscarps and glacis. 



38.— On " Nothing^ 

[Written at the request of a Lady. J 

Write on nothing ! Lady ! shame so to puzzle me ; 
For something, Lady, ne'er can nothing be : 
This nothing must be something, and I see 
This nothing and this something all in thee. 



EPIGRAMS. 103 



39. — On Love. ■ 

It is said that to love, ' 
And be loved in return, 

Is a bliss that no wise 

Man or woman should spurn. 

But what nonsense is this, 
Since each lover we find 

Either mopish'and sad, 
Or distracted in mind. 



40. — On Fictitious Authorship. 

Sly Paul buys verse as he buys merchandise, 
Then for his own, he '11 pompously recite it — 

Paul scorns a lie — the poetry is his — 

By law his own, although he could not write it ! 



41. — " Stick no Bills." 

At a small village, four miles west of the metropolis, 

on the window-shutters of an apothecary's shop are 

written, 

" Stick no bills." 

To which some wag has added underneath, 

" Take no pills." 



104 EPIGRAMS. 

42. — On the Wedding-Ring. 

This precious emblem well doth represent 
That evenness that crowns us with content, 
Which, when it wanting is, the sacred yoke 
Becomes uneasy, and with ease is broke. 



43. — Philosophical Epigram. 

Says the Earth to the Moon, " you ? re a pilfering jade, 
What you've stole from the Sun is beyond all belief." 

Fair Cynthia replies, " Madam Earth, hold your prate, 
The receiver is always as bad as the thief." 



44. — On Charlotte. 

Some say Charlotte good is not ; 

A few, she is not evil ; 
But Billy says, and he knows best, 

She is a very devil. 



45. — On Charles I. 

Zeal, learning, patience, valour here doth lie, 

Superlative ev'n unto ecstasie ; 

That steered a state war-tost, not by self-will : 

Blame then the storm, and not th' pilot's want of skill. 



EPIGRAMS. 105 



46. — On a Dutch Vessel refusing to take up a late 
Aerial Voyager. 
il Beneath the sun nothing, there 's nothing that's new :' ; 
Though Solomon said it, the maxim ? s not true. 
A Dutchman, for instance, was heretofore known, 
On Lucre intent, and on Lucre alone. 
Mynheer is grown honest — retreats from his prey — 
Won't pick up e'en Mo?iey, though dropt in his way. 



47. — On a Blacksmith. 

Tom Sledge, the blacksmith, by his frequent whets, 
And spending much, contracted many debts. 
In this distress he, like some other fools, 
Pull'd down his forge, and sold off all his tools ; 
Nothing was left that would fetch any price ; 
But after all was sold, Tom kept his Vice. 



48. — On a Man and his Ass. 
Kind Asper will do anything you choose — 
But lend his ass — and that you must excuse ; 
His time and toil he freely will expend 
On your behalf — his ass he '11 never lend. 
He'd fetch and carry at your call or beck, — 
But would not lend his ass to save your neck : 
None in self-knowledge Asper can surpass, 
Who justly rates himself below an ass ! 



io6 EPIGRAMS. 



49. — On a Rule. 

'Tis good to speak no ill of other men, 
And of ourselves to speak no good agen. 



50. — On a Cheater. 

Cheater of gold, hast thou such quenchless thirst ! 
I would 'twere melted, then drink till thou burst. 



51. — On a Scotch Presbyterian. 

An old Scotch Presbyterian, sour and sly, 
The Lord preserve me always us'd to cry : 
To whom a buxom wench did jeering say, 
Preserving you, were sugar thrown away : 
Preserves are ever made of sweetest fruits ; 
With your sour nature vinegar best suits : 
Alter therefore your prayer, and from this day, 
Good Lord, pray pickle me, in future say. 



52. — On the Drummers oj the Westminster Militia 
beating a long time before their ColoneVs Quarters. 

My lads, your Colonel I fear 

Will near be waked by drumming, 

Ring the bar bell,* he '11 straight appear, 
With coming, gemmen, coming ! 

* He formerly kept a tavern. 



EPIGRAMS. 107 



53. — On the Fair Sex. 

Women are dainty vessels, 
Yet tender, weak, and soft : 

They must sometimes be borne withal, 
Since they do bear so oft. 



54. — On a Violent Dispute between two Musicians. 

Sweet Tweedledum, dear Tweedledee, 

Ye sons of cat-gut, pray agree ; 
Strange 'twixt two fiddlers there should be, 

So great a want of harmony. 



55. — On a Worthless Character. 

Robert complain'd much one day 
That Frank had ta'en his character away : 
I take your character, says Frank, G-d z — s, 
I would not have it for ten thousand pounds ! 



56. — On Mrs Fury. 

To look like an angel the ladies believe, 

Is the greatest of blessings that heaven can give, 

But faith, they're mistaken ; for nymphs, I assure you, 

Its a far greater blessing to look like a Fury. 



io8 EPIGRAMS. 



57. — On Women s Faults. 

We men in many faults abound, 

In women two alone are found ; 

The worst that from their sex proceeds, 

Is naught in words, and naught in deeds. 



58. — On Man and Woman. 

When man and woman dies, as poets sung, 

His heart ? s the last that stirs, of her 's the tongue. 



59. — On Physicians. 

Physicians are most miserable men, 

That cannot be denied, 
For they are never truly well, but when 

Most men are ill beside. 



INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 



On John Adams, 159. 

On Mrs Allaker, 205. 

On the Marquis of Anglesea's Leg, 227, 

On Mrs Elizabeth Archer, 96. 

On Peter Aretin, 129. 

On an Author, 76. 

On a Baker, 207. 

On Don Barbuda, 197. 

On John Barnet, 39. 

On a Barren Woman, 168. 

On Nell Batchelour, 216. 

On a Bellows Maker, 50. 

In Bengeo Old Churchyard, 105. 

On Mr Blacket, 3. 

On a Blacksmith, 21, 55. 

In Blakemore Church, 27. 

On Judge Boat, 237. 

On a Bottle of Hock, 17. 

On Thomas Boxer, 151. 

On Brawne, an Irish Beggar, 7. 

On a Brewer, 35. 

On Richard Burke, 74. 



no 


INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 


On 


a Candle, 244. 


On 


a Card Maker, 41. 


On 


Joan Carthew, 200. 


On 


a Favourite Cat, 83. 


On 


William Moore Caulfield, 215. 


Cheltenham Waters, 85. 


In 


Chigwell Churchyard, 113. 


On 


a Child, 182. 


In 


the Churchyard of Seven Oaks, Kent, 245. 


In 


Cirencester Churchyard, 164. 


On 


a Clergyman of the name of Chest, 1 14. 


On 


a Coachman, 217. 


On 


a Coalheaver, 63. 


On 


a Celebrated Cook, 79. 


On 


a Coroner, 223. 


On 


a Costermonger, 90. 


On 


a Country Cobbler, 171. 


On 


a Country Innkeeper, 203. 


On 


a Country Squire, 46. 


On 


a Covetous Person, 36. 


On 


Tom Crossfield, 18. 


On 


Robert Crytoft, 137. 


In 


Cunwallow Churchyard, Cornwall, 173. 


Curious Epitaph, 239. 


On 


Sir William Curtis, 219. 


On Thomas Day, 212. 


On 


Mrs Death, 54. 


" Death is a Fisherman," 84. 


On 


a Deistical Writer, 147. 


On 


Mrs Delamotte, 9. 


In 


Ditchington Churchyard, 141. 



INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. in 

On Robert Dodd, a Glazier, 236. 
On a Favourite Dog, 176. 
On Thomas D'Urfey, 174. 
On a Dyer, 71. 

On Edward Edwards, 240. 
On Edward Everard, 103. 
Epigrammatic Epitaph, 132. 
On an Epicure, 61. 
On an Exciseman, 206. 

On Mr Fish, 125. 

On Dr Fisher, 78. 

On Foote the Comedian, 13. 

On Four Sisters, 229. 

To the Four Wives of W. J. Home, 146. 

On Thomas Fox, 191. 

On Benjamin Franklin, 73. 

On Rebecca Freeland, 162. 

French Epitaph, 172. 

From the Greek, 124. 

On Dr Fuller, 241. 

On Gay the Poet, 194. 
On George Goldwire, 130. 
On Oliver Goldsmith, 62. 
On Mr Goodrich, 87. 
On a Good Wife, 23. 
On Mr Granville, 242. 
On Katharine Gray, 106. 
On a Great Eater, 167, 238. 
On Isaac Greentree, 134. 



112 INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 

On Sir John Guise, 225. 
On Margaret Gwyn, 143. 

On John Hall, 24. 

On Russell Hall, in, 

On Thomas Halliday, 189. 

On a Henpecked Squire, 120. 

" Here lie I, at the chancel door," 166. 

On Phcebe Hessel, 157. 

On John Heyrick, jj. 

On George Hill, 57. 

On Richard Holmes and his Wife, 199. 

On a Huntsman, no. 

On an Infant, 8, 142, 160, 165, 185. 
On an Inveterate Ale Drinker, 148. 
An Irish Epitaph, 116. 
On an Iron Heel, 12. 
On Peter Izod, 188. 

On Richard Jackson, 93. 

On Dr Samuel Johnson, 118, 133. 

On Joseph Jones, 211. 

On Thomas Kemp, 234. 
On Kildare, 128. 
In Kilmurry Churchyard, 4. 
In Kingston Churchyard, 226. 
On Joan Kitchin, 107. 

On a Lady of good Sense, 126. 
On a Landlady, 231. 



INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 



On Mr Law, 158. 

On a Lawyer, 25. 

On John Lee, 51. 

On Mrs Lee and her son Tom, 52. 

On a Liar, 247. 

At Lillingham, Dorset, 155. 

On a Linen-Draper, 145. 

On Emma Horatia Lisle, 80. 

On E. and M. Littleboy, 170. 

On Sarah Lloyd, 104. 

On a Locksmith, 64. 

On John Macpherson, 180. 

On William Maginn, 33. 

On a Man Hung in Chains, 22. 

On a Man named Fish, 125. 

In Michael Church, 30. 

On Henry Miles, 10. 

On Mr Mills, no. 

On a Miller, 28. 

On a Miser, 5, 42, 81, 

On Matthias Mitchell, 192. 

On Mr More, 144. 

On Edward Morgan, 221. 

On Roger Morton, 109. 

On Dr Mounsey, 224. 

On Matthew Mudd, 67. 

Nautical Epitaphs, 88, 89. 

On Sir Isaac Newton, 201, 218. 

On an Old Maid, 169. 



U4 


INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 




On Lady O'Looney, 149. 




" On a Thursday she was Born," 115. 




On One who died from Eating Melon, 113. 




On Mrs Onions, 187. 




At Painswick, Gloucestershire, 135. 




On Dame Mary Page, 69. 




On John Palfreyman, 178. 




On a Parish Clerk, 70, 97. 




On John Parson, 175. 




On Dicky Pearce, 139. 




On James Peck, 6. 




On Mr Pepper, a Publican, 75. 




On Petrarch, 31. 




On John Phillips, 136. 




On a Physician, 78. 




On a Pinmaker, 210. 




On Alexander Pope's Nurse, 86. 




On a Porter, 249. 




On a Postillion, 72. 




On a Pressman, 14. 




On the Prince of Wales, 20. 




On Matthew Prior, the Poet, 91. 




On Samuel Proctor, 60. 




On John Prosser, 29. 




On William Prynne, 38. 




On a Punster, 138. 




On a Quack, 59. 




On a Quarrelsome Man, 181. 




On William Quick, ^7- 



INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 115 

On Isaac Reed, 195. 

On Richard Richards, 1. 

In Ripon Churchyard, 34. 

In Rochester Churchyard, 230. 

On Mary Rogers, 100. 

On John Ross, 161. 

On Mrs Ann Rossoman, 184. 

On Frank Rowe, a Stone-Cutter, 117. 

On S. Rumbold, 119. 

On a Sailor, 2. 

In St Giles 7 Churchyard, 228. 

In St John's, Horsleydown, Z^>. 

On Sarah, in Kilmurry Churchyard., 4. 

On a Scold, 58. 

On a Scolding Wife, 163. 

On a Scolding Woman, 95, 

On Margery Scott, 53. 

On Charles Selwyn, 65. 

On a Sexton, 190. 

On John Shaw, an Attorney, 47. 

On Edward Thomas Sheep, 177. 

On Dr Sheridan, 196. 

" Sickness was my Portion," &c., 19. 

On a Slovenly Woman, 202. 

On William Smith, 94. 

On a Smuggler, 66. 

On Martha Snell, 150. 

On Mr Speid, 49. 

On Dr Stafford, 102. 

In Staplehurst Churchyard, 186, 

On Pat Steele, 16. 



n6 INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 

On Stephen the Dwarf Fiddler, 40. 

On Captain Stone, 213. 

On Mrs Storks, 99. 

On Mr Strange, a Lawyer, 122. 

On a Stump Orator, 25. 

On William Sturt, 15. 

On John Sullen, 82. 

On a Swift-footed Man, 204. 

On William Symons, 56. 

On a Tailor and Barber, 32. 

On a Tall Man, 179. 

On a Talkative Old Maid, 232. 

At Tavistock, Devon, 153. 

On John Teddy, 235. 

On Ten Persons Drowned, 222. 

" The World >s a City," &c, 105. 

On Theodore, last King of Corsica, 44. 

On Thomas Thetcher, 128. 

In Thetford Churchyard, 183. 

On a Tombstone in Crettow Churchyard, 115. 

On a Tombstone at Ecclesfield, 92. 

On a Tombstone in Essex, 156. 

On John Treffrey, 209. 

On Robert Trollop, 48. 

On Joan Trueman, 248. 

On Thomas Turar, 43. 

On Two Brothers, 45. 

On Two Children of a Chimney-Sweep, 220. 

On Two Danish Soldiers, 10 1. 

On Two Infants, 68. 

On Twin Sisters, 233. 



INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 117 

On an Undertaker, 214. 

On Sir John Vanbrugh, 198. 

On Mr Wake, 11. 

On Dr Walker, 112. 

In West Grinstead Churchyard, 246. 

On a Wife, 121. 

On William Willing, 243. 

On William Wilson, 154. 

On General Wolfe, 193. 

On Sir Thomas Woodcock, 123. 

On Thomas Woodcock, 98. 

On a Woodman, 208. 

In Worcester Churchyard, 140. 

On Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, 108. 

On Arabella Young, 231. 
On a Young Man Killed during a Display of 
Fireworks, 152. 



INDEX TO THE EPIGRAMS. 


-— 


On a Blacksmith, 47. 


On a Blusterer, 36. 


To any Chancellor of the Exchequer, 22. 


On Charity, 8. 


" Charles for a woman lost his head," 20. 


On Charles I., 45. 


On Charlotte, 44. 


On a Cheater, 50. 


On Mr Colman, 32. 


" Cried Dick to Will," 3. 


On a Cuckold, 14. 


On Debt, 15. 


On the river Dee, 5. 


On the Duke of Buckingham's Request, 34. 


On the Drummers beating a long time before 


their Colonel's Quarters, 52. 


On a Dutch Vessel refusing to take up a late 


Aerial Voyager, 46. 


On an Epigram, 2. 


Epigram, 3, 9, 20. 



INDEX TO THE EPIGRAMS. 119 

On the Fair Sex, 53. 

On Fanny, 30. 

On Fictitious Authorship, 40. 

On Flora's sending a Present of a Michaelmas 

Goose to Mr — — , 29. 
On Mrs Fury, 56. 

Headless Compliment, 18. 

To an Infant, 19. 

On Dr Johnson, n. 1 

On the Late Parliamentary Defeat, 37. 
On Looking on himself asleep, 10, 
On Love, 39. 

On a Man and his Ass, 48. 

On Man and Woman, 58. 

On Marriage, 25. 

From Martial, 12. 

On a Mask, 31. 

Mayn't a Man Marry his Grandmother, 13, 

On Milton, 4. 

On Nothing, 38. 

On the Organist of St Peter and Paul at 
Bath, 33. 

Philosophical Epigram, 43. 

On Physicians, 59. 

On a Picture in Hampton Court Palace, 17. 




i2o INDEX TO THE EPIGR. 



•On Mr Pingo's Medal, 26. 
On a Prigger, 27. 

On a Rule, 49. 

On a Scotch Presbyterian, 51. 

On Seeing an Acquaintance with a Shabby 

Coat, 7. 
On Smithfield, 28. 
On a Squinting Coxcomb, 1. 
On Stella wearing a " Jacob's Ladder/' 23, 24. 
" Stick no Bills," 41. 
On Swearing, 6. 

On a Talkative Peer, 16. 

On Taxes, 32. 

To a Thief, 35. 

On a True Irishman, 10. 

On a Violent Dispute between two Musicians, 54. 

On the Wedding-Ring, 42. 
On John Wilkes, 21. 
On Women's Faults, 57. 
On a Worthless Character, 55. 



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